


Boy in the Band

by SimoneX



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Awkward Romance, Bisexual Simon Snow, Blow Jobs, Boyfriends, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Gay Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Inspired by Music, M/M, Musical References, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Relationship(s), Rimming, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 52,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22055944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimoneX/pseuds/SimoneX
Summary: In this AU, Baz is an art photographer and Simon is in a band. The attraction is strong, but what would happen to Simon’s career if he was “out”? And what will happen if Baz has to hide in the shadows?
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 133
Kudos: 179
Collections: All the Simon Snow Fic, baz pitch x simon snow





	1. The Artist

Chapter 1 “The Artist” 

Baz:  
“His name is Simon Salisbury,” Penny says quickly, with a twinkle in her eye, “and he’s very good.”

I raise an eyebrow at her because that’s what I do… I challenge people. Bunce is brilliant and I’ve given her the go-ahead to implement changes at the family book shop, but it’s up to her to convince me of the merits of her decisions… mostly posturing on my part, of course. I have no intention of entangling myself in the business of booking the shop’s first musical act. Introducing a coffee shop / musical vibe to the book store was her idea, and she can run with it. I’m here to look at the bottom line. I want her to know I’m still paying attention, even though I’m not at the shop as much, lately.

“If he’s so good, why have I never heard of him?”

“Because he’s new. He’s only 23 and he just joined this band maybe six months ago. But I’m telling ya… he’s good.”

“Why don’t we have to pay him anything, then?”

“Because he’s my friend and he’s doing this for me. Plus he and the guys want exposure with your audience… the college-age, book & coffee shop crowd. Baz, they’re going to love him.”

“What’s so great about his act?”

“Well, he’s dreamy to look at, for one thing. All tussled and boyish… like a beautiful swaggering boy. But when he opens his mouth he has this amazing rough singing voice. Kind of blue-sy, almost harsh. Soulful and sweet. It catches you off guard and… arouses you, you know.”

“Sounds like you might have a thing for your own friend, Bunce.”

“I assure you, I do not! You know I’m happy with Micah. And once you actually get to know Snow, he’s a bit of a dork. So there’s that.”

“Snow? I thought you said his name was Simon.”

“Just a nickname. And kind of a stage name.”

“Hmm.” I have to admit being interested in seeing a rough-voiced beautiful boy in my book shop. But I press a little further. “And he will be a good fit for our book and coffee shop… how?”

“Trust me, Baz.”

I sigh. “You know I do, Bunce. So he’ll play tonight?”

“Yes!” she says excitedly. “I told him I’d call and confirm in half an hour. He’s super excited, Baz. Will you be here to see him?”

I think it over, and frown. “I have a photo shoot with Agatha later this morning, but we should be done early enough to catch most of the act. If Agatha doesn’t take the time to change and we come straight over, we’ll make it. I don’t have her wearing anything too bizarre today, so she may agree. We’ll see what her level of interest is in this performance.”

“Tell her he’s hot, Baz.”

“I will NOT. That is not a designation I give out lightly. He’ll have to earn it, first.”

Penny laughs and shakes her head, running off to call “Snow”.

My parents entrusted the running of this shop to me two years ago, after university. I wanted time off before grad school, to soul-search and work on my photography. My father is anxious to have me join the family publishing business, but I’m holding back because I’m not sure that’s really what I want to do. Running Pitch Publishing’s book shop for him is a kind of compromise. I’ve put in lots of hours and it’s doing well, but last year I decided I need at least one “experimental” year to devote to photography. With Pitch Publishing’s (aka Father’s) blessing, I hired an old college friend (Bunce) to assist with the managing. 

And one of her ideas was this coffee shop / music thing.

It was a hard sell, for her… she really had to make a case. Bringing her vision to life meant reducing our book space to clear a large area for the coffee counter, tables, and a stage, and I’m not one to want to reduce book space. But she assured me it would be worth it, and so far it’s been promising. The coffee bar and seating area seem to bring more people into the shop, and sales have been up. We’re becoming a kind of destination for the young literati of London. Musical acts are the next step of her plan.

Agatha:  
I close my eyes as Baz applies my eye shadow and try not to let them flutter. Today he has me dressed (dreamily, as always) in a black gothic gown, with a corset and wings sprouting off my back. I wear a crown of flowers and twigs pinned into my light blonde hair, which is left to hang long and loose. The hairstyle is deceptively simple, but actually Baz spent over an hour on it, crimping and spraying it in place with pins and artificial wild flowers. We’re going for a woodland elf kind of a look today, I guess.

Baz does fine art / fantasy photography, and I’m one of his models. There’s actually three of us who pose for him, but I’m the one who actually talked him into becoming a model himself. He’s a very beautiful man and has a unique look about him that is hard to find in other guys and probably the unconscious inspiration for his artistic vision. With his shoulder-length, shiny black hair, grey eyes, and pale, olive skin, he is very gothic-looking. Plus with his gracefulness and slim elegant body (gorgeously tall), there’s something kind of sexually ambiguous about him… something appealing to both men and women. He sets up the shots and the camera, all that, and I click the switch (when he’s the model).

More than a pretty face, Baz is brilliant. He sets up and composes the ideas behind all the photos himself, and his taste and creativity are so good I wouldn’t be surprised if a big movie studio tried recruiting him someday for set design or costuming. He does the clothes, make-up, scenery, lighting… all of it. Then he captures it on film. The result is beautiful gothic art photos of himself as a kind of brooding vampire devil and me and the other girls as fairies, elves, witches, and goth forest beauties. His website and Facebook page have a following and his art photography has really started to take off these past couple of months. People are requesting custom photo shoots left and right, and he’s turned most of them down because that’s not what he wants to do. He wants to follow his own ideas.

And he can do that, because Baz has all kinds of options. His father owns Pitch Publishing, for one thing, and the family is oozing in money. Baz can develop his art and make a dream career out of it. Or change his mind: honestly, whatever he wants.

A lot of people in his position would sit around most of the day and be shallow and idle. But not Baz. He gets up early for the book store AND works on his art photography, editing the website at night. He doesn’t have much time for a personal life.

I wish I could help him with that. I would totally date him if he wasn’t gay. 

Penny:  
I told Simon not to be late, and he isn’t, for once (thank Merlin). He’s actually fifteen minutes early, which is good because Simon looks a disheveled mess and I want to fix him. I convince him to wear a black cap over his wayward curls, which I then untuck and arrange in a flattering way around his face. He’s annoyed but docile because is used to me fussing over him like a mother. I tell him to leave his black pea coat on while he’s singing (“But Penny, I’ll get hot”… “You’re only playing two half hour sets. You can sweat a little”). I want him to look good for the college kids.

“I’ll wear the coat later but not till after sound check.”

“Mmhmm. You better.”

He and Robin and Dev go about the business of setting up their equipment. I have the sandwich board out on the street and have been advertising this on social media ever since I got the go-ahead from Baz, so we already have a few students shuffling in. If Baz comes by later it will be good to have people at the tables.

I’m actually kind of looking forward to Baz and Simon meeting for the first time (if Baz stops by tonight). They’re both such original people but different in every way… I wonder what they will think of each other. The matchmaker in me thinks there could potentially be sparks, though the realist in me understands it is more likely they will annoy the heck out of each other. Hard to say. I know Baz is gay and Simon (I think) is open to anything. He’s had brief infatuations with both guys and girls, but never a true relationship, yet. His main focus since high school has been music.

Simon:  
I’ve been singing in public for a while now, but still always get nervous, beforehand. I sweat and my mouth is dry and I keep a glass of water close. But once the lights go down and the mic is on, all that fades into the background. When I’m on stage, it’s just me and the song… and the people listening. I just love it. In the middle of it, the singing, every ounce of my body is part of it… and my mind is totally focused. Usually my thoughts are racing and scattered and mixed up, but once I’m there before the audience everything comes together. I let myself feel and tell everything, and it’s GOOD. 

I think when I first started out, I kind of sucked. I mean, everyone clapped and stuff, but my vocal range wasn’t where it should be and I spent most of my time blushing. There were a lot of songs I knew I couldn’t do justice to and simply avoided. Plus I didn’t have a set style, yet… I would see things other people did and try them myself. But with practice and effort I found my own style and became more confident. I started believing the applause. And it feels damn good to earn money from doing this (though of course it’s nowhere near enough to leave my day job).

Penny thinks I’ll make a go of it someday, though. She’s been my number one fan, so I’m going to do my best for her tonight.


	2. The Singer

Chapter 2 “The Singer”

Baz:  
It’s easy to make Agatha Wellbelove look beautiful in photos, but it’s not as easy to make art with her as it should be. I usually achieve the look I want by photographing her from a distance and using lots of light and shadow. She’s great in silhouette, great from a distance, great in profile or with her eyes cast down. But there is something bland and disappointing in her close-ups. My other models have more the range of expression and the hard edges I like, but they’re not as classically beautiful. Agatha has a graceful body and good proportions, so I use her in shoots where that kind of thing is called for, rather than close-ups.

She wants to go to the book shop with me afterwards, to hear Penny’s friend sing. She was kind of indifferent to the idea at first, but when I let it be known to her that Penny said the singer was good looking, her interest perked up. I think she’s ready to meet someone new after the break up with Martin, her last boyfriend, now that she understands there’s no possibility of a dalliance between me and her.

“Think you got the shots you needed?” she asks.

“I think so,” checking the time on my phone. “Do you want to go see Penny’s friend?”

“Yes, but help me take these twigs out of my hair, first.”

It takes us a few minutes to undo her hair, remove the wings and corset, and find her cape. But it doesn’t take as long as it could because she decides to wear the dress I have her in (“it’s not terrible”) and leaves her fantasy make-up on, so she looks like a princess. She will definitely be noticed in the book store, which I’m sure is part of her calculation. With glasses on and my hair in a messy bun, I will fade away into the background, which is also good. I have the Jaguar, so we drive directly over to the book shop.

As we pull up to the building, it’s hard to find parking. There’s cars all the way up and down the street, as well as bicycles smashed into the rack out front. I hear the thumping of music from a block away. If this is all traffic for the book shop, I’ll have to tell Bunce I’m impressed. A small line of people wait to get in at the front door, so I take Agatha around to the back entrance.

People are clapping, and a small group of girls has gathered around the stage, waiting for the music to begin so they can dance and maybe get Simon’s attention (I presume). I can’t see his face at first… he’s leaning against a bar stool with a guitar in his hands. As the applause dies down he starts playing again, and everyone gets quiet.

I see his face, and gasp. He’s beautiful. 

What is it about him? He has this presence. The kind of presence that makes me think that even if he wasn’t up on stage, everyone would still be looking at him. It’s health and youth, for one thing. From a distance, he looks tall and slender, very boyish, like he hasn’t quite outgrown his awkwardness. He’s wearing a cap and his hair, which appears dark at first, has sunny highlights in it, falling in loose bronze waves and curls around his face. He has a long neck and when he swallows his Adam’s apple bobs in a showy way. He has a nice sloping nose and kind eyes and a smile that lights up his features. He has dimples. He really is heavenly.

Then he opens his mouth to sing… and slays me.

His voice is deep and rough. Penny was not kidding. But it has this soulful, earnest quality to it. And the way he pauses and emphasizes things as he sings… that’s all him. He has a style. As he sings he moves his body almost like dancing, but kind of awkward and natural. Like he doesn’t have his moves all planned out ahead of time but instead is simply responding to the music. 

I have no doubt that the girls swaying to his words and guitar right now are more than a little in love with him, even if they’ve never seen him before in their lives.

I glance at Agatha. She’s entranced. In fact, she’s moving, walking slowly forward till she reaches the stage and stands about ten feet away from him. Instinctively she’s found a corner where the light illuminates her like a dark angel, and now she’s glowing at him in her fairy tale dress. 

The dress I designed for her. Looking ethereal in the make-up I painted her with.

And so it is that I see the moment when he first notices her, and watch as he does his double take. I feel a sharp pang of jealousy at that, even though we don’t know each other and even though he hasn’t even seen me yet. Because his face flushes and he looks suddenly away… no one else here has made him react like that.

When he’s finished the song, and after the applause has died down, he leans into the microphone. His speaking voice is a lot like his singing voice, deep and soft and surprisingly gruff. “We have one more song for you tonight. May I introduce Gretchen Van der Kemp?” and there’s applause as another young blonde woman emerges from the crowd. This one’s dressed in jeans and a tank top, but she’s very pretty too. She takes the stage across from Snow, in front of her own microphone. They face each other as the music starts up. 

“I was five and he was six… we rode on horses made of sticks… I wore black and he wore white, he would always win the fight…” she sings in her clear girl’s voice. 

“Bang bang,” he answers in a powerful melancholy voice.

“My baby shot me down,” and so they take the room through this heart-wrenching song of childhood playmates who become grown-up lovers, only to have their relationship end in betrayal and gun violence. The back and forth of the song between their two voices is incredibly moving, and when it’s done some people wipe tears from their eyes. The crowd is silent at first, but then they hug and the room erupts into wild and enthusiastic applause.

“Baz! You made it!” Penny says, coming up from behind me. “Just wait a few minutes and I’ll introduce you to Simon. Can you believe this crowd-?”

“Not too bad, Bunce.”

“Isn’t he great-??”

“The crowd sure seems to think so.”

“I better go help Gina and Tommy. Looks like the line at the coffee bar is getting out of hand.”

When I look up at Simon again, he’s already talking to Agatha.

Simon:  
This has to be my best show ever-! I didn’t screw up once and the crowd really seemed into it. Then that heavenly girl showed up…

Agatha. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as beautiful as her. Usually I go for a more natural look, but she explained that she doesn’t normally dress like this… she’s a MODEL. She’s friends with the owner and he’s an artist who takes her picture. I promised Penny I would stick around to meet Baz, the owner, so it’s kind of a nice coincidence that I can wait for him by talking to her (I hope he’s not her boyfriend, or something. Guess we’ll find out…). 

Of course, I’m not subtle. I can’t wait. “Is Baz your boyfriend?”

“No,” she smiles. “I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

“Maybe we should go out for coffee sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

It’s at that moment that Penny walks over to me with a tall, dark-haired guy… very elegant. “Simon, I’d like you to meet the owner of this book shop, Basilton Pitch. Baz, this is Simon Salisbury.”

I flash him a big smile. He’s taller than me by several inches and looks very posh and intellectual. He’s wearing a black turtleneck and dark jeans. His hair must be shoulder length but he has it pulled up on top of his head. It’s not a look everyone can pull off, but it looks good on him. He has glasses on but I can see his eyes are a steely blue… almost gray in appearance. He’s very good-looking; he could be a model himself. He doesn’t look like the friendliest kind of chap, though… he’s smiling but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Call me Baz, Simon. I’m very pleased to meet you.” We shake hands and I’m surprised at how firm and cool his grasp is. A tingle of excitement passes through me, and I get this weird feeling of déjà vu. Have we met before-?

“This is a great place you have here.”

“Thank you. I’m sure Penny will have all sorts of further musical adventures planned for us.”

“Well I’d be happy to come back anytime. You might have to start paying me, though.”

“I think that could be arranged.”

I see fans hovering in the background, and so does Baz. I blush as I realize we’re still holding hands. I drop his quickly and step away. “Uh… I better get going, Pen. Help the guys pack up, and all of that. Nice to meet all of you!”

And I busy myself with chasing after cords and carrying things out to the van.


	3. They're Interested

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz both make an impression on one another after that first meeting. Agatha is the unwitting facilitator.

Chapter 3: “They’re Interested”

Baz:  
Sales were very good the night Simon played, so I’m cautiously optimistic about Penny’s music idea. For now I’ve committed to having a musical act every Thursday night, and Penny (with her ruthless efficiency) has acts booked two months in advance. I’m disappointed to hear Snow isn’t on the slate for these next two months… we’ll have to do something about that. I haven’t said anything and I’m playing it cool with Penny, but I really, really want to see more of Simon Salisbury.

I’ve been looking him up on-line (like a teenage creeper) and am so impressed… possibly crushing on him. He has videos posted on YouTube of some of his performances and private recording sessions, and he’s great. He’s posted things for a couple of years now (I regret he escaped my notice before) so I can patch together an age and experience progression to his work. As time’s gone on he’s done more and more collaborating with other artists, and you can tell he and the other musicians really like each other. You can tell he’s a “people person”, which means he’s probably the exact opposite of me. 

A lot of his band’s stuff are cover songs, but there must be original stuff mixed in there, too, because some of the music is available on e-audio for purchase. It doesn’t look like he’s recorded anything for CD or vinyl yet.

I find a video for the last song he performed at the coffee shop… Bang Bang. He’s performing it with the same girl he sang with here, Gretchen, but in the video she’s more dressed up and looks really special. The video is focused on her, more than him, but of course I only have eyes for Simon. And when she’s singing, and he looks at her, there is total empathy and participation on his face. He even silently mouths one of her lines, at one point. My heart does a little lurch, at that.

I sigh and (try) to return to photo editing. I still haven’t done anything with that last photo shoot with Agatha. Usually I can’t wait to start playing with the photos, but since meeting Simon I’m distracted. I’m wondering why I haven’t tried photographing other young men before now. I’m thinking of the beauty of long necks and Adam’s apples and broad shoulders (how weird would it be for me to ask Simon to model? Would he consider it-?).

Time to clear my head and go for a walk.

I grab a jacket and head out the back. It’s nice having Penny at the helm and not needing to check in and out of the book shop whenever I want a break. If I want out, I can just go. 

So I escape down to the river. The breeze is chilly and it very well may rain soon, but my mood is such that the clouds and gloom agree with me. I put ear buds in and find a recently created playlist of mine, built around Simon’s music. I settle into a song and light a cigarette. I let myself fall into angst. How long has it been since I met someone, had a little romance? Too long.

There’s a young man ahead of me, and I startle for a moment because it might be Simon. He’s in a dark coat and has that kind of long, lanky neck I’m starting to admire. But when I see him in profile I realize the nose is all wrong and it’s not him, after all. Still, I walk a little faster, to catch up to him. He glances over at me when I suddenly appear at his side. “Hello,” I say.

“Hello?” he smiles but looks like he’s wondering if he should know me. His face is all wrong… definitely not Simon… but he looks interested. And his hair style, body and age are in the right ball park.

I strike up a conversation with him. And when he seems interested, I give him my phone number. We make plans to see each other that night.

Agatha:  
I was able to get Simon’s phone number from Penny, and so started texting him. He seems like a really nice guy, but busy. We aren’t able to get together until maybe a week after he played at the book shop, and then it’s only for two hours over coffee. But I enjoy how good looking he is and I like that I can make him blush. He’s a nice distraction.

I haven’t heard from Baz in a while, so I stop over. “Knock knock,” I say at the entrance to his office in back of the coffee shop. “Hello, Agatha, come in,” he responds.

“Whatcha working on?”

“I was finally taking a look at those photos I took of you last week. There’s some really interesting ones.”

“Yeah? Can I see?”

“Sure; come over. Look at this one,” Baz says, motioning to a black and white shot of me standing in dappled light under a willow tree. I almost look like part of the tree. “Huh,” I say. “That is interesting.”

“Agatha, I’ve been thinking of photographing a young man, for a change. I’m kind of getting sick of my own face…”

“And my face?”

“Never your face, Agatha, dear. There’s no getting sick of that. But a change would be nice.”

“I wonder if Simon would do it. He’s pretty good looking, don’t you think?”

“Simon?” Does she mean who I think she means-?

“That musician who played at the book shop last week. He and I just had coffee together yesterday. He’s a real good guy, and kind of pretty.”

Baz kind of sputters. Is he blushing-?

“Look, I can ask him sometime, if you want. Or is he too ordinary-looking for you? Do you have a specific type in mind?”

“No, I think he would do. Do you think I could have his phone number, Agatha? I’ll text him myself.”

“Sure; I don’t think he’ll mind. Give me your phone.”

Simon:  
I’m at Penny’s and we’re watching a movie on her couch; we have curry from the take-out place around the corner, and I’m filling my face. My phone buzzes. It’s a text from a number I don’t recognize.

“Simon, this is Baz Pitch from the book shop you played at last week.”

“Hello?” I respond.

“I wonder if you could stop by the book shop tomorrow. I’d like to talk to you about performing at the shop on a more regular basis. I’d make it worth your while. Also there’s another opportunity I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Penny,” I say, before I answer. “Your book shop owner is texting me. He wants to meet with me.”

“What-? What does he say?”

I let her read my phone. “He never said anything about this to me. But it sounds good, Simon. Text him back.”

I reply, “Sure, what time would you like me to come over?”

“How about ten?”

“Okay see you at 10.”

“I wonder what this is about, Penny. Don’t you usually do the booking?”

“Yes, but Baz is the owner. He can do whatever he wants. He must have an idea. I think you really impressed him, Simon! That’s good, because he can afford to pay you. Wouldn’t it be nice to have more regular income from your music??”

I can’t argue with her, there. And tomorrow’s my day off from the bake shop, so the day’s pretty well open. 

We settle back into watching the movie, but now I’m thinking about Baz. He was kind of an impressive guy, and I still feel like I saw him somewhere before. But where-?

“Penny, is it possible I’ve seen or met Baz before? I forgot to mention this to you, but I felt like I’d seen him somewhere.”

“Do you ever look at art photography? On the internet?”

“I don’t go out of my way to look at it but I may have seen something on Facebook.”

“You might have seen Baz on Facebook. Here, let me show you.” And she pauses the movie to go look up his website from my laptop. She finds it and we flip through pictures until I recognize one. “That’s the one I saw before. That’s him? Baz? Wow. He looked different at the shop, but I guess his hair was up and he had glasses on.”

“He’s probably wearing make up in this photo, too.”

“God, he’s beautiful,” I stammer, and I mean it. Penny laughs, but I take the laptop from her and flick through more of the pictures. He’s tall and slim, with pale skin and long black hair. I know from meeting him in person that his eyes are light gray in color, but in these photos his eye color changes. Must be color contacts. He’s always wearing black, though sometimes it’s a kind of cloak dress, and sometimes it’s pants and boots. Usually he has horns on his head, like Malificent. He has great bone structure and this really unforgettable face with full sensual lips and a Roman nose. 

“I think I have a boy crush.”

“Well, try not to let yourself get too distracted when you meet him tomorrow. Remember you’re there to talk business!”

I laugh. “Okay; okay.” Then I sigh. “You know how I went out to coffee with Agatha?”

“Yeah…”

“I think I like Baz better.”

“They’re both awfully pretty. But of the two, Baz is definitely the more interesting. I don’t think Agatha’s really your type, Simon.”

“Me neither. It’s just still so weird for me that ‘my type’ is beyond just girls, now.”

“I know. But take it slow… you’ll figure things out. Now can we watch the movie again??”

“Yes, ma’am.”


	4. An Ongoing Gig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz offers Simon a weekly music gig at his book shop, and he asks Simon to model for him. Simon isn't sure about the modeling, but he's definitely interested in Baz.

Chapter 4:

Simon:  
I arrive at the book shop ten minutes early. Penny’s out front so I talk to her a bit before heading down the back corridor for my appointment with Baz. I’m kind of nervous so swallow as I knock.

“Come in.”

I crack open the door. “Baz? Hey. It’s me, Simon.”

“Yes, come in, Simon.” He remains seated but motions for me to grab a chair. “Sit down, please. Can I get you something? Tea or coffee?”

“No, I’m fine.”

He smiles as we look at each other. He’s not wearing glasses today and his hair is down, so he looks more like the guy in the art photos than he did the first day I met him. His hair is long but layered slightly around his face, glossy and smooth. It looks like he has a bit of a widow’s peak. He’s wearing a dark blazer and a white crew neck shirt with jeans. He’s casual and elegant all at once, and if that’s him I’m smelling, he smells great. I inhale, and I’m kind of blissing out. He’s looking at me with those light gray eyes of his, and I swear I could look into them forever…

“Simon?”

Oh; he said something. I shake my head and blush a little. “S-sorry. What was that?”

“I asked if you would be open to the idea of performing for us on a regular basis Friday nights, and what you might charge for that.”

“Oh. Well. I’d have to talk to the guys, first… but I’d say we’d need at least 800 a night. And we wouldn’t be able to do all the Friday nights… we already have some gigs booked on a few of the Fridays.”

“Well, that’s fine; we could work around your schedule. Could you do a longer set, too? Say, two hours? Do you have enough material for that?”

“Oh yeah, if you don’t mind a mixture of cover songs with our own stuff. We could do two hours. Especially if it includes coffee and a snack.”

He raises an eyebrow at that… it’s so pretty. Sigh. But then I remember I’m negotiating for our group and so wait for his answer. “Yes, I believe coffee and snacks could be included.”

“Sweet.”

“Are you the songwriter of the group?” Baz asks.

“We all are. Usually our songs are a joint effort between me and the guys. One of us kind of gets an idea, and we go from there. We try out different beats and melodies and ways of phrasing it, till it starts to sound right.”

“How did you meet up?”

“University.”

“Are you still a student?”

“Yes, but I’m taking a year or so off to devote to my music. Except I have to pay bills, too, so I also have a day job at a bakery. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings to have a more steady income from music. Actually, if some of the Friday nights were just me and didn’t include the guys, I could probably do more of them. I’d want the same pay, though.”

“You’re a tough negotiator, Simon.”

“Damn straight,” I say, but I’m laughing. I think he realizes I don’t know what I’m talking about and am pretty much winging this whole conversation.

“Do you have a contract for me to sign?”

“I’ll have Penny draw something up. Why don’t you talk to the other guys first and see if 800 a night is enough.”

“Okay.” This is actually super-exciting. I can’t wait to tell Penny… I don’t think she knows about any of it.

“So was there something else you wanted to talk to me about, too?” I ask.

Now Baz looks embarrassed. “I’d like to photograph you.”

“Me?? Why?”

“I like your look. I don’t know if Penny mentioned it to you, but I do art photography.”

“I don’t think I’d be a very good model. I’m kind of a plain git, you know.”

Baz laughs. I love his laugh. “I don’t think you’re plain, Simon. Not at all.” He gets up and walks around to my side of the desk. He reaches for my hand and pulls me up, leading me to the window. He puts a gentle hand on my jaw and turns my face to the light. “No. Not plain at all,” he says gently, looking down at me.

We’re standing fairly close, and my heart is thumping because I’m kind of in shock over all this. I look up into his eyes and know I’m blushing.

“I know you’ve had Agatha model for you before…”.

“Oh, yes. But I think I’m getting kind of tired of her look. Now,” he says imperiously, “Don’t tell her that, Simon. But Agatha’s prettiness is just kind of… obvious. I think I want something new and I find you… inspirational.”

I don’t tell him I’ve already seen his art photography and can’t imagine how I would fit into any of that. “Uh… I’ll do the singing for you, Baz, but I don’t know about the modeling. Can I think about it? And hear more about how it would be done, what it would look like? I kind of have to think about my image too, you know. Being in the music business, and all.”

Baz nods. “You’re right. That is a consideration for you. However, I could photograph you in such a way that your identity wasn’t obvious. Body shots and silhouettes… that kind of thing. I do that with Agatha all the time.”

“Hmm. Well, I still have to think about it.”

“Okay.”

Baz:  
When Simon leaves I am more than a little horrified at myself. There’s no way we’re going to sell enough books and coffee to justify spending $800 a week on a Friday night musical act (including $300 a week for the Thursday night act). That is money that I’ll have to pony up myself; it can’t come out of the book shop’s bottom line without us taking a loss, and I don’t want to give my father any further excuse to question how I do things.

But the idea of seeing Simon on a regular basis and getting to know him better… I can’t resist. And this is a way to do it without actually asking him for a date.

Plus he really is good-! And this will be good for the book shop in the end, I know it will. I just have to figure out how to explain it all to Penny without her becoming too suspicious of my motives.

Penny:  
Simon is so excited the next time I see him, I think he’s going to burst. “Baz wants to pay me $800 a week to play Friday nights at the book shop. Two hour sets!”

“Simon, that’s great!”

“Did he talk to you about that, yet?”

“Yes, he did. He apologized for not telling me sooner, but said he wanted to talk to you first because he wanted you, in particular, to fill the gig. How sweet is that??”

“Pretty sweet. But why do you think he likes me so much, Penny?”

“Simon. Have you heard you? You’re great. You have an unbelievable talent and I’m sure none of the other acts we have booked for Thursday nights are going to draw as big a crowd as you guys did. It’s just good business sense from Baz.”

“He wants me to model for him, too, Penny.”

“What-?? He didn’t tell me that.”

“I told him I have to think about it, first. That part seems pretty weird. Do you think he likes me a little?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. But he takes his photography very seriously. If he’s asked to photograph you, he’s taking an artistic interest in you. He wouldn’t just photograph you because he thinks you’re cute. Baz isn’t like that.”

“I think he’s cute.”

“He’s handsome… I admit I’ve noticed that myself. And I know for a fact he’s gay, Simon.”

“Really.”

“Mmhmm. But you better keep things separate and not go trying to date Baz. If you take this music gig with him, he’ll be your employer.”

“Yeah.” Simon sighs. “I wish I was rich enough to turn down the musical gig so I could just date him.”


	5. A “Chance” Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz and Simon run into each other at a gay bar (short chapter, but I’ve never typed a chapter out on my phone before and it’s kind of awkward).
> 
> I’ll try to find a keyboard to use later, so I can finish the gay bar meeting out properly ;).

Chapter 5: A "Chance" Encounter

Baz:  
So we have a plan, and Simon’s signed a contract. He’ll play at the book shop Friday nights, starting in three weeks. He’s booked at other places these next few weeks.

So I’ll just have to wait.

Meanwhile, though, I feel restless. I have some extra “steam” to release, and not even photography is filling the void.

I call Tony, that guy I met when I was walking a few weeks ago.

He’s a pleasant enough chap, and not bad looking. In the dark and with my eyes closed, he’s quite like Simon... as long as he doesn’t talk too much.

And we don’t usually talk.

We meet at a bar for drinks, first. As we stand up to the bar and Tony watches a game, I flip through my phone and come across a bulletin of local events. My breath catches as I see Simon’s group listed as playing tonight just a few blocks down the street, at Clancy’s.

That’s a gay bar.

I slam my drink. “Come on. Let’s go to Clancy’s.”

We walk over, hands in our pockets, not talking. I hold the door open for him and we file inside.

Generic dance music is playing, so the band must be on break. We make our way through the crowd to the bar, and I order us a couple of drinks. We make our way to a table and I catch my first glimpse of Simon. He’s strapping his guitar over his shoulder and laughing at something one of his band mates said. There’s a few other guys on stage, as well- ones I haven’t seen before. A slender blonde man gives the nod, and they start playing.

Simon moves back and forth to the beat. The other guys are moving, too, but in a more reserved way. Simon is definitely feeling the beat. How can something so gawky and awkward As his swaying look so sexy, too? It’s because he doesn’t seem to care... he’s not image-conscious. He’s natural and just feeling the music.

All the guys start singing the riff together: “Lalala, lalalala, lalala, lalalala...”, then the blonde man, who has a higher-pitched voice than Simon, begins.

“I can’t get you out of my mind. Boy, you’re all that I care to think about...”

Then Simon answers, in his deeper voice, “I just can’t get you out of my head. Boy, you’re more than I dare to think about...”

And just like that, they’re singing this hot gay love song to each other. 

“There’s a dark secret within me... won’t you stay?”

And Simon is crooning an impassioned plea for the boy in the song to “stay” as his hips sway. His eyes are closed and his long neck strains toward the mic.

I feel like fainting.

“Baz?” Tony says in my ear, arm on my shoulder to get my attention. “You alright?”

I look at him impatiently. “Tony, let’s call it a night.”

“Okay,” he says, smiling. He thinks I’m talking about going back to my apartment together.

“No, I mean I have a headache and I want to be alone. Go home, Tony.”

He leaves in kind of a huff (understandably; I’ve been abrupt and silent all night), and I feel a tinge of guilt. But I can’t deal with him right now. I can’t deal with anything right now except looking at Simon, listening to Simon.

I have four more drinks as he finishes the set... I’m slamming them fast as I need the liquid courage.

Simon:  
After our set I head towards the bar. People are patting my shoulder and giving me the thumbs up. I guess they liked the set.

I see a man with shiny black hair sitting with his back to me. He turns and I gasp. “Baz?”

“Simon.” He gives an enigmatic Mona Lisa-type smile.

“What are you doing here?” That question gets me “the eyebrow”. 

“I’m gay and this is a gay bar.”

“Yes, but I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Well,” I say, and my face feels hot, “not often.”

“You were great again tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Okay.” I sit down next to him. Because I feel a little weak in the knees and I want him to keep looking at me like that.


	6. Whoops, We’re Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this would have been a longer and more detailed chapter if I wasn’t still tapping this out with one finger on my phone. But oh well. “Brevity is the soul of wit”, right?

Chapter 6: Whoops, We're Lovers

Baz:  
Simon is sitting on the bar stool next to me, watching as I get increasingly tipsy with alcohol. I try to play it cool but I can’t help looking at him and slamming down the drinks. Sometimes we try to talk, but most of the time there is awkward silence. I don’t know why he’s bothering to stay by me. 

“Do you live nearby, Baz? I think I should walk you home.”

“I’m close... about three blocks away. But you don’t need to walk me...”.

“I think I do.” He gets up. “Come on.”

Once we’re out the door I kind of stagger. He puts an arm over my shoulder. “Easy, there.”

I let myself relax into his arm a little. “I don’t know what got into me tonight, Snow. I don’t usually drink like this.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

He lets go of me, and I immediately feel the loss... he’s so strong and warm. I concentrate on leading us in the right direction, toward my apartment. I wonder if he will come in-?

We walk and I bump into him again... I swear it’s not on purpose, but I am silently pleased when he takes my hand. “You need a babysitter tonight.”

His hand-! We’re walking down the street together, and he’s holding my hand. His is so warm, and the skin is rougher than mine... perfect. When we come to an alley, I can’t help but pull him off the sidewalk and into the shadows between buildings. He doesn’t resist me. I push him gently up against the brick and step closer, so we are almost touching.

“Simon,” I breathe. It’s a question.

“Baz, you’re drunk.”

“But I like you even when I’m not drunk.”

“Do you, now?”

“Quite a bit, actually. Can I kiss you?”

“First kisses shouldn’t be drunk kisses...” and I pull away, defeated. He’s right.

But then he stops me, with a gentle hand on my face. “But sometimes they are. And I’m sober enough for the both of us.” And with that, he leans forward and kisses me.

It’s a warm and exciting kiss, and I know I’ll be mad at myself later for being drunk during it. I do my best not to be sloppy about it. Simon keeps his hand on my face and uses his other hand to clutch at my arm. I grab his shirt with my two hands and pull him closer. 

He pulls away and rests his forehead on mine. “We need to get you in bed.” I raise my eyebrow at that and he quickly stammers, “so you can sleep!”

We return to the sidewalk, and in another block we’re at my front door. “Please come in, Simon.”

“I have to work tomorrow, and I’m not taking advantage of you while you’re drunk.”

“But I WANT you to take advantage of me.”

“No can do, beautiful man.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “I really hope you call me when you’re sober, Baz. I like you a lot. But let’s see if you actually call me tomorrow or if you act like this never happened. Should be interesting.”

“Simon, I am totally calling you tomorrow.”

“Yeah... maybe.”

“Just come up and tuck me in.”

He cocks his head at me. “Will you be good?”

“So, so good. I will be so good”

“Well.” My heart thumps in anticipation. “Okay.”

I’m grinning widely. If he knew me better he wouldn’t trust me at all. 

He follows me inside and I shut and lock the door with a happy click.

Simon:  
Well. I almost did the right thing, there.

I honestly walked Baz home with every intention of being the gentleman who protects him from himself.

But then, there we were. And his eyes were sparkling. His perfect hair was all mussed up and I knew what those full, soft lips felt like on my own. I knew what he smelled like and I knew what his arms felt like under my finger tips.

And I wanted to know more. 

I got him to his bedroom and opened the covers for him. I helped him take off his shoes. But then I let him pull me down on top of him and kiss me again. And then I buried my face in his hair. I smelled his hair and I kissed his neck. I heard him moan and... I gave in. To him, to the moment, to everything.

In the back of my mind I knew this was a mistake (or at least something Penny wouldn’t approve of). This guy was my employer, now. We should have a business relationship, nothing more. 

But how do you tell yourself that when you’re falling into a pair of steely gray eyes? And you feel a want in you like you’ve never felt before?

I thought of the song I was singing, just a few hours earlier: “I can’t get you out of my head. Boy, your loving is all I think about.”

Right or wrong, Baz and I fall deeply into each other’s arms. We peel the clothes off each other and press our bodies together. We do not hold back in any way, and at the end of the night we fall into a blissed out sleep.


	7. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter... they make plans to meet in the park when Simon finishes work.
> 
> (I’m still without a full keyboard to use, so expect short choppy chapters. Maybe those are better, though... sometimes I get too wordy).

Chapter 7: Morning After

Baz:  
I wake up the next day about ten and my head hurts. But I remember everything.

Simon’s not here; he’s already left, and I don’t know what that means. I get up gingerly and pour myself a glass of water, and find he’s left me a note on the kitchen counter: “I have to leave for work but don’t want to wake you. Text me later- it was a great night. Simon”.

I’m glad he left me a note... a sweet note. After last night I’m feeling vulnerable.

Yes, I was drunk, but I’m pretty sure Simon wasn’t, and either way we had an amazing time. We kissed and undressed each other, and I could see his beautiful body by the glowing street light pouring through my bedroom window. I gave him a blow job and he made the most breathless, urgent noises. Everything I did to him... he seemed to relish it. He made me feel like a lover- a good lover. 

He let me mount him and his body felt like heaven. We crashed into our orgasms.

I remember we didn’t fall right to sleep, either. Afterwards he lay his head on my shoulder and I stroked his soft hair. I kissed him on the head and called him sweetheart, and he nestled into me. It was all very soft and tender.

I really want to be his boyfriend... I hope he lets me, though I know it’s too soon to ask. I resolve to woo him... win him over.

Simon:  
I’m not going to lie... it was strange waking up all intertwined with Baz. We just met... it hasn’t even been four weeks since I’ve known him, and I could count the number of times I’ve actually seen and talked to him on one hand.

But he feels so familiar to me, like we must have known each other in another life, or something. Last night it was like we had an understanding... or at least our bodies did. Everything unfolded so naturally, like it was inevitable.

It was the best sex of my life, which isn’t saying much. But still.

I realize that most people would guess a bar singer like me, who receives lots of admiring attention from girls, would be more experienced than I actually am. But I guess my sexuality has been a factor, and while I notice attractive girls, I notice the boys, too, and that’s more where my attention has rested these past couple of years.

Baz is like the embodiment of that, for me. He’s definitely a guy, but he’s so pretty and soft. It’s like the best of both worlds. It’s hot.

I hope he doesn’t regret sleeping with me. I really like him and I want to see him again.

Baz:

I don’t text Simon until I’m showered and dressed, and by that time it’s almost 2 in the afternoon. When I do, all I can think to say at first is “hey.”

He responds “Hi ;).”

Oh lord; what do I say next? We had our penises in each other’s mouths but don’t know anything about each other.

“How late do you work?”

“I get done at 4... 👀”

“Can I see you tonight?”

“I practice at 7, but we could meet a little before?”

“How about the park by the bookshop at 5? I’ll bring carry out. Do you like Chinese food?”

“Yes- I like all food”

I smile fondly at that. That’s my boy ❤️.

Simon:  
I’m so relieved that Baz wants to see me again. I don’t know what I would have done if he blew me off, seeing as I’ll be seeing him regularly when I start singing at the book shop. Penny would give me one heck of a lecture if I screwed that up.

I want to see him again. I’m definitely crushing on him. Every time it’s slow at work I find myself gravitating to my phone, checking for texts from Baz or googling his name so I can look at his art photos. 

Such a pretty man... so dark and broody.

After work I run home to change into a clean shirt and brush my teeth. I look in the mirror and decide I don’t look half-bad today. I look freshly shagged, in fact. I think Baz will appreciate that...


	8. Getting Properly Acquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz meet and resolve to get to know each other properly.

Chapter 8: Getting Properly Acquainted

Baz: I get to the park a little before 5, and Simon joins me shortly thereafter. He’s wearing jeans, a hoodie, and a light jacket.

“Hey,” he says, sitting down on the bench next to me.

“Hey.”

We’re not looking at each other... I’m looking out over the grass ahead of me and he’s looking at his hands.

“Guess we skipped the getting to know you part and went straight to the good bit,” he says, sheepishly.

I give a little dry, joyless laugh. “So we did.”

“Thing is,” he says, turning to me. “I’d LIKE to get to know you.”

“Would you, now?” I reply, but I’m still not meeting his eyes.

He reaches over and lies his hand on my hand. I can’t help it; it startles me, so I jump a little. He pulls back his hand, and I can feel him frowning.

“Yes, Baz. I want to get to know you. I’d like to see you again.”

“You mean get to know me better, like THAT.”

“No, not like THAT. I mean like two decent human beings. I don’t shag lightly, Baz. That’s not what I’m interested in.”

“Says the guy who shagged me drunk.” Why am I acting like this-?

He runs his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “I shouldn’t have done that, Baz; I’m sorry. It doesn’t mean I don’t genuinely like you, though.”

I look at him, finally. His blue eyes look tired, but vulnerable. 

“I like you, too.”

“Okay, so tell me about yourself. How old are you?”

“23.”

“So am I! When’s your birthday?”

“February.”

“Well mine’s January. So that means I’m older and wiser.” He’s smiling now.

“How ‘bout family. You got family?”

“I’ve got a father and stepmother, three sisters, and a brother. They’re younger than me.”

“What about your mother?”

“She’s not with us anymore. Died in a car accident when I was four.”

He inhales sharply. “I’m sorry to hear that, Baz. I lost my mother, too. My father’s still around, but he’s a right git and I grew up in care homes.”

“So you don’t have a family?”

“My last foster mom was pretty nice. We still keep in touch. Her name’s Ebb.”

We eat the carry out I brought, and I’m glad to see he knows how to use chopsticks. “Penny taught me,” he says. We talk for another hour like that before he gets up and walks our containers over to the trash. “I have to go to practice now.”

I wish he didn’t have to leave... I’ve been enjoying this, and we really haven’t even touched each other yet.

I get up and we stand before each other. “I’d like to see you again, Baz.”

“I’d like that, too.”

“Let’s start texting each other. We can continue getting acquainted and we can figure out some plans to meet from there. Sound okay?”

“Yes,” I reply, wondering when I started to turn into such a passive git.

He steps closer and puts his hands on my lower arms, gently pulling me in. He gives me a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth, and I close my eyes. There are definitely sparks. I want to pull him closer, but he’s already retreating. “Bye, Baz.”


	9. Night at Simon’s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of an abrupt ending, but I promise to pick up right where this leaves off in the next chapter. The boys are getting it on again.

Chapter 9: Night At Simon's

Baz:  
About 2 the next day I get a text.

Snow: Trying to walk the line here

Snow: ...

Snow: Between not texting too soon and not waiting too long

Snow: So you don’t think I’m a creeper but you still know I’m thinking about you.

Snow: so how’d I do...was the line walked adequately?

[I chuckle softly at that. Four texts in a row. Feelings revealed.]

I respond.

Baz Pitch: You did fine. How are you, Simon?

Snow: Not bad. Done at work in two hours, so that’s good

Baz Pitch: Got plans for the evening?

Snow: Jst practice. That gets done at 10

Snow: You wouldn’t want to come over after that, would you?

I’m kind of floored at that. Seems rather a late hour for talking on a week night. And isn’t that what he wants to do now, for awhile... talk? Talk and get to know each other?

Or is it something else-? Maybe he wants to get back to “the good bit”- our physical intimacy- as much as I do. I’ve been thinking about him, on and off, all day. I’ve spent at least two hours of my so-called office time watching music videos and torturing myself like a teenager with thoughts of how weird and angsty I am compared with him, how I don’t deserve someone like him, and how our relationship will fizzle out way quicker than I like as soon as a pretty groupie girl catches his eye.

I better not waste time, then.

Baz Pitch: I’d love to come over. What’s your address? 

Snow: 😍

Snow: 411 Congress Lane

Snow: Text me when you get there and I’ll buzz you up

Snow: lover...

Holy shit. I think I’ll pack an overnight bag. Pitches are nothing if not prepared.

Simon:  
I can’t believe I texted him that. Guess I’ve got it pretty bad. Penny would definitely not approve... I haven’t run any of this by her. 

We have a good practice... the other guys are excited about our upcoming Friday night gigs at the book shop. We get done about 9:30 and I catch an Uber back to my flat. I do a quick pick-up of the place (hopefully he doesn’t think it’s too shabby... he’s definitely slumming it with me), and I even take a quick shower. At about 10:15 Baz texts, and my heart is thumping: “I’m here.”

I buzz him in, and suddenly there he is at my door, knocking. He looks like a frickin rock star... black sweater, torn jeans, boots, leather coat. His hair is loose and wavy, his posh face carefully composed.

“Baz,” I say. “Can I take your coat? Glass of wine?”

“Sure, Snow.”

“It’s Simon.”

“Ah... yes. Simon.”

I don’t have a coat closet, so I hang his coat on a peg by the door. There’s already a hoodie and two jackets hanging on it. I carefully lay his expensive soft leather jacket over the top of them.

I pour him some wine. “Let me show you around my flat. Luckily we can do that while standing right here. If you pivot in a circle you see everything.” I laugh weakly and watch as he turns his head just enough to glance at my bed, ten feet away. He raises an eyebrow.

Now I’m sputtering and coughing... smooth, Simon, smooth. I direct him over to the couch. “Pay no attention to that bed over there. When you live in a flat this small you just have to pretend there’s walls and rooms in all the right places. Two steps this way and you’re in my living room. Where I have tea and all the serious business is conducted.”

We sit. “See how that works?” I say.

He shakes his head softly. “You’re weird,” he says. “I love it.” His eyes shine curiously at me.

We sip the wine, but now it’s quiet. I didn’t really have a plan for tonight; I just wanted to see him. And maybe have a bit more physical contact (or, if he insists, a lot), but we can’t go right to that... can we-? Wouldn’t be proper, and he deserves the best.

“Simon,” he says, finally. “Maybe you should move a little closer.”

Might do that I grin... and slide over. He puts his arm up around my shoulder and looks at me fondly. We continue sipping the wine, but now I’m hyper aware of his warm body and good-smelling hair and freshly shaven face. I can’t help it. I look up at him.

“What?” He asks, innocently. 

“C’m here.” I reach up and cup his gorgeous freshly shaven face with my hand. I try to stay looking at his eyes but keep being drawn down to his lips, which are full and lush... and crickey if he doesn’t lick them. My breath catches and I lean closer.

And kiss him again. Which feels like a home-coming.

Baz slides his lips over mine, varying the pressure, caressing my cheek and jaw.


	10. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz spend another night together, this time sober. Their relationship develops through text and Simon performs at the coffee shop again.

Chapter 10: The Plot Thickens

Baz:  
It had been nice—heavenly, even—to kiss Simon that first time, even though (well, probably because) I was drunk. But kissing him now, after just a few sips of wine and with all my judgement intact—it’s even better. I know what I’m doing and I’m aware of all the little details I probably missed out on before. Like the way his stubble feels on my lips… his shave isn’t as close as mine, but I enjoy the masculinity of that. His scent is delicious… familiar and exciting, all at once. I can hear his soft sighs and feels his heart beat under my hand on his chest… when I drop my hand to his thigh he trembles and strains toward me. I see him look at me through dark lashes, as if to verify that I’m not freaking out or trying to get away. Once he sees that I’m content he murmurs, “Baz,” affectionately and pulls me closer (with that low husky voice).

He tucks a leg up under himself so he’s almost kneeling, making himself taller on the couch. Then he leans forward, propped up by fists, and nudges me back with his kiss. He’s over the top of me, now, and our kiss deepens. A few gentle maneuvers of his chin and he finds my tongue. As he explores my mouth and licks my teeth I touch his face gently with my fingertips. Somehow I break away so as to kiss along his jaw and neck line. He answers that with a hand to smooth my hair, and cradles behind my neck like I’m precious. Our kisses continue until my lips are swollen and I’m dazed. I recline against the back of the couch with Simon hovering over me… how is this real? And then he grabs a cushion off the floor and sticks it under my neck, saying “here,” like a sensitive sweetheart. He smiles down at me, golden, and asks, “Is this okay?” I nod and look up at him; I push a wayward curl away from his eyes. 

My heart.

We look into each other’s eyes. I had heard once that if you want to fall in love with someone, look long and deeply into their eyes. If I had any sense, therefore, I would avoid looking into Simon’s eyes. But here I am, and I can’t, or won’t do that; I just look up at him and let him see me in my entirety. I want to know what his eyes are saying to me; I want to memorize their color (I’ve decided it should be called “infinite blue”)… I want to see how his eyes reflect light and what makes them sparkle and whether his irises blow up when he’s aroused. I want to see his lazy bedroom eyes and his laughing eyes and his smoldering eyes. I want all of his feelings, all of his attention.

We return to kissing. There’s no contact below the belt, other than my hand on his leg, but I feel like this is going somewhere. Slowly, excruciatingly, and inevitably going somewhere. So I’m not surprised when I hear him ask “Baz,” (while still kissing, then licking my neck-!), “will you stay the night?”

I hesitate for only a few seconds before admitting, “I have an overnight bag out in my car. I could stay the night.”

He chuckles appreciatively. “Well aren’t you prepared.” I roll my eyes and he kisses my nose. “I’m really, really glad. Go get it.” 

“Fine,” I say, taking his hand as he helps me up. Simon’s face is flushed and his hair is messy; I’m sure I look similarly disheveled.

Like in a dream I slip on my shoes to go downstairs for the bag. As I do that I try to keep my mind blank, so we can step right back into what we were doing before I left, but of course my mind won’t let me have that luxury. It’s impossible not to think. Yesterday we had agreed to slow things down and get to know each other first, but here we are moving right towards sex again. Somehow sex with Simon feels easier than just talking to him, and I should probably consider why that is. Why does talking feel so dangerous—so loaded—to me… and is that how it is for him, too? I suppose it’s because there are so many unknowns, with talking. Like what if he finds out things about me that he doesn’t like? Or what if I find something out about him that I decide I can’t live with? What if we want different things? What if (and this is the hardest) Simon isn’t gay enough to be satisfied with me? What if we try this awhile but he’s just experimenting and all of a sudden he comes to his mostly heterosexual senses and abandons me… that would be incredibly painful, because there would be nothing I could do about that and it would be nobody’s fault. The more we talk, the more involved we’ll be. And the more involved we are, the more it’ll hurt if it all falls apart. 

I feel a physical pain at these thoughts. I’m torturing myself… and why? Nothing bad’s happened, yet. I have to stop thinking. 

Simon’s left the door open a crack, so I let myself back in. He’s changed into soft flannel pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. I’m surprised he’s wearing a shirt to sleep in, but imagine he didn’t want to shock me with too much exposed skin.

“Have you been thinking, too? You look pinched.” he asks.

“Maybe,” I say, setting my bag down on the couch, between us. 

“I want you to stay overnight, Baz, but let’s not feel pressured to have sex. Nothing has to happen. I mean, maybe we shouldn’t.”

I don’t say anything, because I don’t know what this means. It’s one thing for me to have second thoughts; it’s another thing for Simon to have them.

“I always want to be with you, Baz, you know that, right? So it’s not that I don’t want to keep going tonight. But I’m just kind of confused by this. Like, what are we doing? What does it mean? What are we?”

I still don’t say anything, but now I’m not looking at him, either.

“Baz, talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say, Snow?”

“Are you mad? Do you want me to piss off?”

“Your statement makes me feel a little confused as to why I’m here, and why you want me to stay the night.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m an ass, for that. I wanted you to stay for one reason, but now here I am, wanting you to stay for another.”

“I knew the first reason you wanted me to stay. Maybe you better explain to me your new reason for wanting me to stay.”

“I want you here tonight, with me, because… I want it to be because you care about me. Because you really like me and want to be with me. Because maybe there’s something between us that means something. Will you stay for that, Baz?”

I smile at him, a little. “That’s really soft, Snow.”

“I know… dammit.”

I let him squirm for a minute, before answering. “My answer is yes, Simon. Yes I’ll stay for that.”

I think he’s glowing, now.

“Give me your hand,” he says in that quiet gruff singer’s voice. I hear what he’s saying like he’s singing me a love song. I hear all the layers and all the things unsaid, too. “I’m really glad, Baz.”

I beam at him a bit, before breaking away. “Well. Can I change in your bathroom?”

“Yes—it’s over there. Surprise, surprise; you can see it from here.”

I go change, and instead of my thoughts racing, now I relax. Not wanting to feel like a formal git, I brought flannels and a t-shirt to wear tonight, too. I brush my teeth and wash my face (pointedly ignoring the condition of his sink—disgracefully filthy. It would perhaps be better if we stayed at my place, next time).

When I come out I find he has most of the lights off—except for a lamp on the night stand by his bed. “Okay,” he says, as I click the door shut behind me, “let me walk you over to the bedroom part of this flat. It isn’t a very long walk, and I promise there’s pillows…”.

“Pillows?” I reply. “That’s outstanding, Snow. Pillows are the bomb.”

He snorts lightly then crawls into bed, moving over to the other side so there’s room for me. He yawns and pats the spot next to him. “Come here, then. I have to work tomorrow.” I should perhaps keep a little more aloof, but instead I go straight into his arms, acting like that’s what I always do and it’s the most natural thing in the world. He reaches past me to shut off the lamp. We lay down with my head on his chest and his arms around me. He’s warm and firm and snuggly… and it feels thoroughly domestic. I nestle into him and he sighs happily. For two guys who barely know each other, we seem pretty settled in. 

“If I didn’t think it would freak you out I would declare that you are mine now,” he says.

I laugh. “That might be taking things a bit too far. But I won’t say I hate the idea.” 

I can tell he’s pleased with himself. He kisses me on the head.

“Seriously, though. I like you. I like having you here. And it means a lot to me that this is not just about sex for you.”

“Yes, Snow, as long as you realize that I like sex, too. Let’s not overlook that forever.”

He laughs. “Patience, my pretty one. You’re such a good-looking man, Baz. You’ve probably had lots of boyfriends before, yeah?”

“Not lots, but a few. None that I would describe as terribly significant.”

“Will I sound like your annoying aunt if I say ‘But how can that be, Baz? Look at you. You’re beautiful. Any guy would be proud to have you.’”

“I happen to have an aunt that says things remarkably similar to that, it’s true.” I smile, but then continue seriously. “But relationships aren’t about looks, are they? They’re about compatibility and timing. In order for it to happen, you and someone else have to be ready for the same things at the same time, and that hasn’t happened for me yet. I suppose it will someday. At 23 there’s no rush for us to find these things, is there, Snow?”

“No, you’re right on that. No rush. But I’m not going to let you pass by unnoticed, Baz, because for me, you’re pretty significant. Not just one of the crowd.”

I look at him, curiously. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”

“Well, obviously, I’m not gay, right?” My face must drop as he says that, because he quickly clarifies. “What I mean is I’m not exclusively gay. I like girls, too. I’ve fooled around with guys some, but not very many and not as… deliberately as right now… this thing with you. I’m choosing to be with you. I know what I’m doing and it’s not an accident. It’s not just something that happened to me because I had a few drinks and you’re here and you’re looking at me. In fact, I think about you when you’re not here. So that’s what I mean when I say ‘you’re pretty significant.’”

“I like that, Simon. Well you should know that even though I’m gay, you’re significant to me, too. You’re not ‘just a guy’ to me.”

“Mmm. That’s really good. Can I kiss you again, Baz?”

“Of course,” I whisper.

We kiss again, and it feels nice to be doing it from a position of comfort, on the bed. He puts a leg over me and rests a hand on my hip as we face each other and kiss. And I’m already “stirring” again. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, Snow.” That or the love of my life.

“Yeah, yeah. Good night, Baz.”

“Good night.”

“You know the only reason I can put off shagging you is because I trust we’ll get back to that later, right? So if at any point it looks like you’re sick of waiting you’ll tell me immediately, right?”

“I’d laugh but I’m not sure you’re kidding.”

“I’m not sure, either.” He yawns, “G’night.”

******

Simon:  
Crikey, I wish I didn’t have to work today. Not after waking up to Baz in my bed. 

He’s still sleeping. He’s turned away from me and his long dark hair is spilled over the pillow. A square of sunlight is pushing through the window and falling on the blankets, just over Baz’s hip. I can see dust floating in the square of light, and I know that while some people would think “oh, gross… too much dust in this apartment” I’m thinking “that’s fairy dust. It’s an enchanted morning and the fairies brought me Baz.”

I get up quietly and grab some clothes from my closet, before shutting myself in the bathroom. As I dress I mull over whether to let him sleep or wake him and say goodbye. I decide to wake him.

But when I come out, he’s sitting up and looking around. “Good morning,” I say.

“Good morning,” he sighs. “I suppose I better get up and going, too.”

“You can stay here and sleep in, if you want.”

“No, I have to get to the office. I’ll go home and shower first.”

“I’ll text you later today when things slow down.”

“Alright. I’d like that.”

“And you can text me too, Baz. Anytime. I always want to hear from you.”

“I’ll bear that in mind, but you might need to wait until I have something to say.”

God… who answers things like that? But I grin. “And I am always surprised by the things you say.”

“Surprised or fascinated?”

“Both.”

Now I’m sitting down on the bed beside him, and tucking his hair behind his ear. I smile and lean down to kiss him. He lets me; he kisses back. 

He’s still there at the apartment when I leave, but he’s up and dressing and he won’t be there when I get back. I realize I’ll miss him. But lord, I have to stop mooning and get to work.

**********

Baz:  
Later that day my phone buzzes. I look at it and see Simon’s sent me a picture of a black kitten lying in the sun, all curled up and sleeping. “This is you” he says.

“I remind you of a kitten?”

“Well, sure. It’s pretty, just like you.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with how often you’re calling me ‘pretty’.”

“Why not? You are”

“You could alternate that with ‘handsome’ every now and then.” But then you’re the one who’s ruggedly handsome, Snow. (I think that to myself, rather than say it).

We text off and on through the day. At some point I ask him when he gets done with work, and he tells me 4, but then mentions he has band practice, after. I wait for him to ask me over again, but this time he doesn’t. I wonder if he wants me to bring that up as a possibility, but I don’t.

The next week or so we keep up our text conversation, but we don’t actually get together again. I know I’ll see him on Friday because his band is set to play at the book shop. I make sure I don’t have anything else going on that day, so I can be around for the whole performance.

Friday rolls around and I’m ridiculously excited. I remember I’ve promised him snacks, so I make sure Penny has scones and a cheese, meat, and fruit tray tucked away in the coffee bar’s fridge. I go to great pains on my appearance that morning, straightening my hair but letting there be a few swoops and waves in all the right places. I wear a dark red blazer, black jeans, and a black concert t-shirt (my idea of a rock n’ roll look, I guess).

When Simon and the guys arrive, there’s electricity in the air. People know they’re coming so we already have more than the usual customers at the shop. Simon’s not wearing a hat this time. He has tight jeans and a black t-shirt on, with ratty old black converse shoes. HE looks rock n’ roll… not me. But his eyes twinkle when he sees me. I wonder if he will let on that we “know” each other better now, in front of Bunce. But he doesn’t. However he does make a point of giving me a wink, which I’m happy to settle for.

There are about fifty people, mostly college students, assembled around the café area when he starts singing. The band opens up with a fun thumpy rendition of Tom’s Diner, and I’m reminded again how good he is. It’s sung in duet with a young man who has a slightly higher voice, and the contrast with Simon’s more gruff, deeper voice is very good. They do a lot of smiling at each other during the song, though, which I can’t say I care for.

Agatha’s in the crowd, again. This time she’s wearing her regular street clothes, though. She hasn’t even come over to say hi to me yet, though… apparently she has eyes only for Simon, tonight.

I feel like the same could be said for everyone in the room, right now.

Simon sways and bops to the music as he sings. They’ve moved on to another song, strangely titled “Pocohontas”. I’ve never heard it before, so guess it’s one of the songs they wrote. I wonder who wrote it, Simon or someone else, because it seems to be about the end of a relationship and obviously it’s about a girl. I feel ridiculously jealous of even the idea of Simon in a past relationship with a girl, mooning over her, missing her, having feelings for her.

I move from my place in the back to a table at the front, joining Agatha. Penny sits down by us, as well, and we listen and cheer as Simon gets through the first songs in his set.

When they take a break, he comes and joins us.

“Simon, you’re so good!” Penny gushes.

“You really are, Simon,” adds Agatha, appreciatively.

“Thanks, guys. Got to give people their money’s worth, right?” He winks at me again.

“I think we’re going to have a cult following for you here in no time at all, Simon,” I say.

“Awesome. I brought some CDs to sell afterwards, if that’s all right, Baz?”

“That’s fine.”

I notice a couple of older gentlemen come into the shop. They are well-dressed and look like businessmen. They order a couple of coffees and stand up to a tall table in the back. I wonder if they’ve come to see Simon. They seem pretty deliberate as they look around and take in the scene. When it’s time for Simon to start playing again, they watch him carefully.

After an amazing second set, Simon and the guys wave at the crowd and thank everyone, to wild applause. I see the two men go over to seek Simon out, afterwards.

I wonder what that’s about, and whether Simon will tell us or if we’ll have to ask.


	11. Secret Boyfriends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a great performance at the book shop, Simon's band is approached by record producers. One of them is Agatha's uncle; Agatha has arranged for a meeting because she likes Simon and wants to advance his career. Baz reminds her of Simon's contract with him. Simon comes over to Baz's and they agree to be secret boyfriends.

Chapter 11 “Secret Boyfriends”

Baz:  
The two well-dressed strangers talk to Simon about ten minutes, and I see one of them give him a card. When they leave I see Simon scratch his head and look after them, bewildered. I’m about to go over to him when Agatha descends on me with a mischievous look on her face. She looks very well-pleased with herself.

“Looks like that went well.”

“Do you know those men, Agatha? What do they want with Simon?”

“They’re record producers. One of them’s my uncle. I mentioned Simon to him and told him it would be well worth his while to come check Simon’s group out.”

“Does Simon know you did that?”

“No, not yet. I haven’t been able to get him alone again since our coffee date.”

“So do you like him or his music?”

“Both, of course. Though I think he needs someone like me to take an interest in him and help him along with his career. He’s kind of lackadaisical.”

“Remember he’s signed a deal to perform Friday nights here for the following six months.”

She looks at me, shocked. “Six months? Why on earth would he agree to something like that?”

“I don’t know… money? A little financial stability? It’s a good deal for him.”

“Hmm. Not such a good deal if record producers want him to do a promotional tour. But you’re not a total bastard, Baz. You’d let him off the hook if something better came along for him, right?”

“Agatha, you hardly know him. I’d say you’d be wise to stay out of Simon’s business.”

Her eyes narrow at me, but now Simon’s coming over to us. “Baz, Aggie… you won’t believe what just happened-! Those guys are producers, with their own studio and everything. They want me to meet with them and discuss recording under their label. They can help with promotion, recording, bookings, the whole deal! Can you believe that??” His face is flushed and he’s looking at me with shining eyes.

“That sounds great, Simon. But maybe you should take someone along with you, to your talk. Someone to help you make sure it’s a good deal, and all that.” Agatha looks like she wants to protest, but I raise an eyebrow at her and she clenches her lips together. She’s never been one for direct confrontation. She’ll go after Simon privately, once I’m not around.

“Yeah… maybe I should do that. Would you come with me, Baz?”

“Of course. Just let me know when and where, and I’ll be there. I’ll even do a little research for you, first.”

“You two are the best,” he says, grabbing my hand, along with Agatha’s and giving them a squeeze. “Well, I have to go talk to the guys now. See what they think about all this.” And he’s off in flurry of excitement.

Agatha looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “So now you’re his business advisor?”

“We’ve gotten close.”

“Get your hooks out of him, Baz. I saw him first.”

I laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Aggie. But please, excuse me. I have to talk to Bunce. Good day.” And I head over to Penny.

Penny:  
Simon and the guys have picked up their equipment and started carrying it out back. Simon is talking to them excitedly as they work, but I have no idea what he’s going on about because I’m stuck behind the coffee counter filling orders. I had doubled our inventory of bakery items but now just about everything we had is sold out. Simon has been great for business.

I see Baz coming over, Agatha staring daggers after him. “What’d you do to piss Aggie off?” I ask. 

He doesn’t bother looking back at her. “She’s having delusions of grandeur, that’s all.”

“Well I can’t wait to ring up tonight’s sales, Baz. These crowds in the shop are really paying off. I think you’re going to be pleased.”

“Think we’ll be over the $800 mark?”

“Actually, I do.”

“Wonderful, Penny. Is Simon still here?”

“I think he’s still in the back, maybe out by his van. He hasn’t said goodbye to me yet.”

“I’m going to catch him and congratulate him.”

“Okay; see you, Baz.” And I get back to making lattes. I glance over to where Agatha had been standing, but she’s gone. Wonder what happened between her and Baz? 

Simon:  
The guys aren’t as excited about the idea of recording for someone else as I thought they’d be. They agree I should go talk to the producers but only to get the gist of what their offer is and not to make any deals until we all can get together and really talk it over. Which makes sense. We like what we’re doing right now and all three of us have other jobs. They both have families, in fact. We don’t know if we’re ready to go full-time yet and we don’t want a bunch of red tape telling us what we can and can’t do. Right now we’re on our own, having fun, and making a fair amount of money, especially now that we have this regular gig with Baz.

It’ll be nice meeting with the producers knowing that we’re only going to consider their offer if it’s really, really good. And I’m glad Baz said he’s go with me… he’s smart. Although it occurs to me that it might be a conflict of interest, to have Baz there, seeing as I’m doing business with him…

We’ve just about got the van loaded up. I turn around to go back in and say bye to Penny, and there he is… Baz. He looks good in the street light, his black hair waving in the breeze.

“Another sensational performance, Snow.”

“I’m glad those guys got to see us on a good night.”

“Are you ever NOT good?”

“Oh there have been plenty of times when we sucked,” I laugh. “But I guess that was a while ago. In recent years we’ve been pretty consistent. Maybe we really are ready for that big break, huh?”

“Could be, Simon. But I’m glad you’re letting me come with you. You don’t want to sign your life away, or anything.”

“Yeah, I’ve already signed six months of my life away working here, right?” I’m laughing when I say it, but Baz looks like I slapped him or something. “I’m kidding, Baz. I love playing here. It’s right in my neighborhood, among friends, it’s fun… and now I’m getting paid. I’m not complaining, Baz.”

“Well, I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to be here if something better comes along. Just make sure it’s what you really want, okay?” He steps closer. 

I look up at him, and I want to kiss him. But I don’t want the guys to see. So I murmur quietly, “Can we see each other tonight?”

“Yes. But can you come over to my place instead? My sink’s cleaner.”

I laugh, knowing that Baz is only half-kidding when he says that. “Will you be home at 9 pm? Text me your address, again.”

Baz:  
Simon didn’t get to eat any of the snacks I’d gotten for him at the book shop, so I brought the trays home with me so he could have something at my place. I got out some wine, lit candles, and put on music… his music (I’d made a playlist of my favorite songs of his).

At nine, Simon came by as promised. He was wearing a scruffy-looking army green coat over his black t-shirt and jeans. His hair had curled up, slightly, after the sweat of his performance, and his blue eyes twinkled with confidence and good humor. I could tell he was still riding on a high from talking to those record producers.

He stepped inside, and I shut the door behind him. Then he pushed me against the door and kissed me. “Sorry. I wish I could do that every time I see you.”

“Are we your dirty little secret, Snow?”

He laughs, but looks at me carefully. “Well, you know… seeing as we aren’t sure what we are, yet. I’d rather keep it on the down-low, till we do.”

I am sorely tempted to ask if he’s aware that Wellbelove fancies him. But I don’t want to say anything that will push the two of them together, and I don’t want to act jealous or possessive. So I say nothing.

“Glass of wine?”

“Yes, please.”

We walk over to the kitchen and his eyes get big when he sees the food I put out. “Baz!” 

“Well, you negotiated snacks as part of the deal, right?”

“Yes, but that was mostly just me being a git. However... now that they’re here we can’t let good snacks go to waste, can we?”

We sit up to the counter, sip our wine, snack, and talk comfortably for a while. Our legs touch companionably. It’s nice.

“So have you brought an overnight bag, Snow?”

“Well, I didn’t want to PRESUME anything, but… yeah. Can I go get it?”

“Mm hmm.”

When Simon comes back inside, he seems thoughtful. We sit on the couch, him leaning on my shoulder as he holds my hand and looks at it. “Baz?”

“Yes?”

“I still want to get to know you, take it slow, and all, but was wondering if we could make an exception for tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I just have so much energy tonight. I wonder if we could… fool around a little? You know, get off together… maybe blow jobs?”

Careful not to spit my wine out, I regard his blushing face and pleading eyes. It would probably not be appropriate to laugh, at this point. And besides, why would I? I am not against blow jobs, however strange it is to be asked for one in this odd shy manner, like he’s asking me to prom, or something.

So instead I say, “Let’s go to bed.”

And we proceed to have an AMAZING time. Simon’s not kidding when he says he has energy; we probably spend a solid two hours going at it. I dim the lights, so it’s mostly by flickering candle that we take in the sight of each other. I still have his playlist going in the background, which Simon seems to get a kick out of… every now and then he’ll sing along to his own voice, directing the line of the song towards me if he deems it appropriately sexy or relevant. His voice and his eyes looking into mine as he sings is very hot. There’s a bit of a groupie fantasy going on in my head, and Simon seems very pleased I am so enthusiastic. 

Afterwards, we lay in my bed, and this time I’m the one resting a head on his chest. Our legs are tangled together and I absently watch as my finger traces a line from the top of his shoulder, down his arm.

“Baz, you’re not seeing anyone else, are you?”

“No, not since our first night together.”

“Good. Please don’t see anyone else right now, Baz. I want you to myself.”

“Well, how about you, Snow? Are you seeing anyone else? Are you going to stop seeing other people for me?”

“I went to coffee with Agatha once but that was before you and I were together that night. There’s been no one but you these past few weeks, and I don’t need there to be anyone else. I’ll give you my full attention. If you want it, that is…”

I kiss him. “This is good, what we have. I won’t mess it up, looking over your shoulder for someone else.”

“Good; thank you. I promise the same.” We kiss, and it’s long and tender. 

“But are we going to be open about us? Are we letting other people know?”

“I don’t think we should do that yet. Not because I’m unsure of my interest in you, of us, but because of my music… the band and now maybe this record deal. I don’t want to scare off fans or investors by being openly…”

“What, Snow? Gay?”

“Bisexual. In a relationship with a man.”

“You’re a good-looking musician; you know you’re going to get hit on a lot, by girls. How are you going to deflect that?”

“Lightly and respectfully. Let them all think I’m a too busy professional. As long as I don’t seem to favor one person over another, they’ll be okay with the fantasy.”

“As long as I get you at night, I’m okay with that. Simon,” I say. I surprise myself by swallowing and continuing, “I want to give you a key. I want you to start staying here at night. I know you won’t be able to every night, like when you’re away, but I’d like you to start staying over more regularly. Yes?”

“Yes.”

And with that we agree to be secret boyfriends.


	12. The Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's kind of short, but I promise the next will longer. Baz comes along with Simon during his first meeting with the record producers, and hears firsthand what kind of offer Simon's getting. Simon reveals that he used to be in a sexual relationship with one of his bandmates, Robin.

Chapter 12: “The Offer”

Simon:  
As promised, Baz was there when I met with the guys from Mercury Records. I was nervous, but he gave me a wink and sat by my side across the table from them, and I felt better. I think they thought he was a lawyer at first, but I introduced him as my friend and moral support, and they accepted that explanation. There were handshakes all around. 

It was overwhelming to be in an office talking about hundreds of thousands of dollars AND the future of the band (crikey), so I was glad that Baz was there to hear their offer first-hand and take notes… I didn’t want to forget a thing or leave something big overlooked. Baz had done research beforehand so was able to ask them questions about details I hadn’t even considered, like how much financial assistance we would get for touring. So it was really good he was there, and several times I squeezed his hand under the table.

There was so much to consider-! They had done this many times before so of course already had a contract lined up, to show me. They knew I wouldn’t be signing that day, that I was only there to hear the offer; but they poured it on thick. 

They thought it was strange that Robin and Dev weren’t with me, and I guess it was... obviously they weren’t nearly as interested in this as I am, which is odd. But I did my best to stick up for them and explain that they have families and jobs not as flexible as mine, so I was just doing the first step, this meeting, on my own. The main guy, Edward Wellbelove, actually said, “It’s just as well you came alone, then, to this first meeting, Simon. I’ll come right out and tell you that you are the main one we’re interested in. Your bandmates are good and we like your chemistry, but you would be equally good without them. In our opinion YOU are the main talent of the group. We could find other musicians to accompany you. So keep that in mind when you talk to them, if they don’t seem interested in our offer. Our offer is for you as a group or YOU individually. Not them individually.”

I’m not sure how to respond to that… I suppose I should walk out angrily and say “It’s all of us or none of us,” but I don’t; it’s not like they’re telling me to dump Robin and Dev. They’re just telling me not to give up on the offer, based on what they decide. Which is actually a pretty cool option to have and flattering as hell. I let them know I’ll keep that in mind, and that I’ll give them an answer by next week.

Baz and I leave the meeting and stop at a lunch café afterwards. “So what do you think?” I ask.

“Well, they gave you a low ball offer, but it’s not totally unreasonable. You could probably negotiate and get it a little higher.”

“Low ball-? It already sounds like so much money.”

“They’re offering you an advance of $100,000. But signing bonuses for new artists go all the way up to $350,000. And you’d be splitting with your two bandmates, so it’d be less than that, really.” He looks at me, carefully. “Would you consider going it on your own?”

“Nah. Really, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t do that to Dev and Robin. That would be a shit thing to do. To Robin especially; I owe him a lot.”

“What do you mean ‘to Robin especially’? What kind of favors has he done you?”

“Well,” I say, and now I’m looking down and probably blushing, “before he got married, he and I had a little thing going.” Baz’s eyes get wide. I quickly add “But it’s been over for years now, and we’re nothing but friends. I’m friends with his wife, too, and they actually made me the godfather of their little boy… can you believe that? But, yeah. Leaving him high and dry would be like screwing over someone in my family.”

Baz nods, like I’ve said something right, but he still looks a little disoriented by my admission about Robin. He shakes his head. “I thought you said you hadn’t had any serious relationships with men, before us.”

“I haven’t. I have a serious friendship with Robin but it was never a serious sexual relationship with him. That was always more of a dabble, on both of our parts. We were trying to figure our sexualities out, I guess, and the relationship ended with him getting together with the girl who became his wife. And there were no hard feelings on my part.”

He looks into my eyes for a few seconds, then nods.

I sigh. “I can’t imagine the guys are going to like the idea of touring, but if it was just around the U.K. and only for six months, they would probably do it.”

“How do you feel about touring?”

“I don’t really like the idea of it, considering I’ve just recently taken up with you. And Baz, I want you to know… if we sign it’s going to have to accommodate our six month arrangement with you. No touring till after that. We can record and shit during the six months and still play for you Friday nights. There’s no conflict there. I want you to know that, Baz.”

He smiles at me, sadly. “You’re a good man, Simon, and I’m happy for you. But I can’t help but be a little sad because you’re telling me that in six months you’ll have to leave…”.

“That doesn’t mean the end of us, Baz. Lots of people stay together when work takes them apart. It wouldn’t be forever, if you’d be willing to wait for me. I’ll wait for you, Baz, but that’s your call. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’d also let you off the hook, too. If my being away is too much and all and you meet someone else… just tell me and I’ll understand. We’re so brand new it wouldn’t be fair to expect more than that… I’d truly understand.”

“Hmm… I don’t like to hear you’d be willing to give me up so easily.”

“It wouldn’t be easy at all, you prick. But we’re brand new and I care about you and it wouldn’t be fair to act otherwise.”

He reaches across the table and I meet his hands with my own. We look at each other softly and sadly, for a moment. I shake my head. “We have nothing to be sad about, Baz. No one’s making us break up; whatever happens we can stay together if we want. This record deal is a good thing that doesn’t have to affect us.”

“You’re right. And I could come see you sometimes, when you’re on the road. It wouldn’t need to be a straight six months of no contact.”

I must get a kind of faraway look in my mind because Baz then asks, “What-?” and I laughingly admit to having a bit of a fantasy of him being a groupie in my dressing room, once he started talking about visiting me on the road. Baz laughs, but it’s a devilish laugh and there’s a twinkle in his eye. 

********************  
Baz:  
It throws me for a bit of a loop to learn that Simon had a sexual relationship with one of his bandmates, even if it’s old history and the guy’s married now. Robin. I didn’t even know his first name before this conversation, that’s how little I’d thought about him… Simon always calls him by his last name, which is “Harvey”, and I hadn’t thought to look beyond that.

Once I’m alone I pull out my phone and start looking up videos of the band, so I can take a closer look at Robin Harvey and watch him interact with Simon on stage. I watch several videos, and there doesn’t seem to be anything significant about the way they interact… they just look like mates. But then I think to look for an older video, one that might be more on the same timeline as their relationship, and then I find several with younger versions of Simon and Robin. And there does seem to be more looks exchanged and back and forth smiling. Huh. 

I don’t like it.


	13. The Band’s On Board

Chapter 13:

Baz:  
Simon wants to bring me along to his band practice, to help explain the recording deal to the guys. Their practices are held at Robin Harvey’s house... his garage, actually.

I’m not that keen on seeing Harvey right now, just as I’m not keen on seeing any of Simon’s other exes, though upon reflection I am curious to see the two of them interact, now that I “know.” I’ve never really paid Harvey much attention, I suppose because it’s easy to overlook the rest of a band when there’s a charismatic singer involved.

And when you are shagging said singer.

So we drive out to Harvey’s in my Jaguar. Simon holds my hand in the car, saying, “I’m nervous. This is big for us.”

We drive further away from the thick of things into a quiet working class neighborhood. Harvey’s house is like all the other modest brick homes up and down the street, nothing special... though someone has planted flowers out front by the door. We pull into the driveway, in front of the garage. Simon gives my hand a squeeze before he lets go. “Come on!”

Simon leads us straight to the garage; we enter through a side door. The garage has been cleared out so that the floor is open, but shelves on the walls hold all the ordinary humble household equipment you would expect to find in a garage. Besides that, there are drums and speakers, mics and chairs... and, of course, Dev and Harvey.

“Hey, guys. You remember Baz from the book shop? He came with me to the meeting with the studio. Baz, this is Dev Smith, our drummer...he does keyboard, too. And this,” Simon adds, turning, “is Robin Harvey.”

“Guitar, backup vocals... whatever’s needed,” he says with a laugh, shaking my hand.

He’s an average-looking bloke, fading into the background Next to Simon... but then, I’m partial. Robin has straight brown hair that falls onto his shoulders in a rocker’s shag, and friendly blue eyes. He’s slim and several inches shorter than me, but not unappealing.

“Very good to meet you.”

“So what’s their offer?”

Simon does most of the talking, though he does call on me for confirmation or more detail from time to time. The guys listen and occasionally ask questions. After we finish, Robin gives a low whistle.

“Whew. That’s a lot to think about.”

“It is, innit?” Simon answers, empathetically.

“If we could get a little more upfront money- say enough for it to be 50,000 each— and we could start the touring in the summer, so I wouldn’t have so much time off from work, I’m inclined to say yes.”

“You think we could get that much, Baz?”

“I think so.”

“How about starting the touring earlier? That would cut short our time playing at the book shop By a couple of months...”

“That could be arranged.”

The guys all look at each other for a few minutes. “Omigod... this is happening,” Simon says.

“Let’s do it,” Harvey agrees.

Simon:  
It’s a great practice because we’re riding off the high of agreeing to sign our first record deal. And Baz is there, watching us. He’s sitting on a stool as far back from the speakers as possible... it gets loud in here. But he seems to be enjoying it. And when we’re done and putting away equipment, he comes over and talks to Dev and Harvey some more. They seem to like him... 

In the car, on the way back to Baz’s, I say, “Thanks for everything, Baz. Especially letting us out of that contract early.”

“About that, Simon,” he says, without looking at me. “I have a deal for you.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Do that modeling for me. I could probably get all I need in five sessions.”

“Okay, but nothing too silly, right? And no nudity.”

“I never do nudity.”

“Okay, then.”

We get back to Baz’s and I say, “I think we should celebrate.”

“Do you want to go out?”

“No,” I say, meaningfully. “I want to stay in.”

“Oh do you now?”

“Mmhmm.” I step closer to Baz and slide my hands past his waist and up his back. I tilt my head up and kiss his lips. He puts his arms around me and hums into my kiss. “Sounds lovely,” he says.

Baz:  
Laying in bed with Simon after we’ve just made love, him watching the telly and me reading a book, is my new favorite thing. We’re touching when we do this, and totally relaxed. Dr. Who comes on and I abandon my book to snuggle up to Simon and watch with him. I can tell he loves that I’m doing that... giving him and this odd show of his my full attention. I kiss his head fondly.

Simon is fast becoming the companion I never knew I was missing... my other half. I can’t even comprehend him being gone for six months... but I put that thought aside. Even if the record deal actually happens, we’ll still have at least four more months together.

“Omigod, Baz,” Simon says.

“What-?”

“I recognize this episode. It’s the one with... the weeping angels.” He says this carefully, as if there is great significance.

“The weeping what?”

“ANGELS, Baz. It’s super scary.”

“Well you better come here, then,” and I tuck him into my chest, arm around his shoulder.

“Protect me, Baz,” and I know there is a part of him that isn’t really kidding when he says that.

I’m going to fall in love with this boy. It can’t be helped.


	14. Real Life and Fantasy, Entangled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz’s life together has become simpler and more complicated, all at once. What will it mean for them?

Chapter 14:

Baz:  
Simon’s at my flat so much, he may as well live here.

And I’m definitely not complaining. I like the waking up together, the puttering around the kitchen in the morning as Simon fries eggs and I sip coffee, flipping through the newspaper. I like all the little tangible proofs that he’s here, like how there’s more food in the fridge and how suddenly butter is a required staple of the pantry. I look forward to banal little domestic chores, like our weekly runs to the bakery, to buy Simon scones and bread and whatever other carb-laden indulgences catch his eye.

I cleared space for him in the closet and bathroom, though his things don’t require much room... he’s not a fashionista, like I am. A laundry service takes care of our clothes and a cleaning service comes weekly, so Simon benefits from that, too.

We’re still figuring it out. Simon isn’t comfortable taking “handouts” from me, so he pays for some things. But honestly there is such a difference in our finances, I wish he wouldn’t bother. 

Even though the guys signed and Simon got his share of the advance (which ended up being $50,000, after all), he’s kept his job up at the bakery. He went down to part-time hours but he still has to work to pay the rent and utilities at his flat. I tried to suggest at one point he give that up and just admit he’s living here, but he wants to keep up the facade that we’re not a couple.

I tell him I understand, but the longer we’re together, the more the secrecy smarts. I know for a fact Agatha still harbors fantasies about him, and even his band mates are in the dark about our status. 

I have dark days when I wish he was proud of us and I wasn’t kept aside like his dirty little secret. But most days I respect his attempt at independence and content myself with the reality of his being here with me, whatever form that takes.

Simon:  
The first few weeks after getting the advance were mostly about putting things in order: getting our schedules figured out so we could set up studio time. Figuring out what songs we could do, and whether there’s enough good material for an album (there is). The studio is arranging venues for our tour and making plans to promote us. Our image at the time of launch will be important. No one comes out and says “don’t be publicly gay”, but I understand that’s a given.

I know now that Agatha’s the one who made all this fall into place... her uncle owns the company, and she’s agreed to accompany us on the tour as a studio rep, at least until we fall into a routine and the owners are confident we know how to get from point A to point B on a tour bus.

I’ve kept Agatha at arm’s length mostly by emphasizing how we have a business relationship and it’s better for everyone invested in us if I am perceived as single. Therefore she would be very pissed to realize how completely involved I am with Baz. 

It’s funny how a small deception becomes bigger over time. It can only continue by being propped up by other deceptions, and pretty soon there’s a whole network of lies and half-truths and silences. And they all add up to something big.

But I want this. I want this shot at being a real recording artist. And I don’t want to depend on Baz all my life; I want to have money in my own right. I want to be able to take HIM on holiday somewhere nice, maybe even buy him a ring someday. Something gorgeous and gothic and old, for those beautiful hands.

Because I love him. I know that now, though I haven’t said it (and neither has he).

How could I not love Baz? Now that I’ve seen him in the morning, with his hair spilled out over the pillow and his long dark lashes resting on his pale skin? When I’ve heard his sighs and soft chuckles and moans and raspy whispers?

Now that I’ve seen him read the newspaper in spectacles, like a dad, or raise his eyebrow and sweep out of the room, like a movie icon? Now that he’s laughed at my jokes or lectured me when I’m being ridiculous... or indulged me, even though I’m being ridiculous?

There are so many details, so many reasons, to love Baz.

Not to mention our bedroom life. In the very beginning of our relationship I had toyed with the idea of holding him at arm’s length, so we could “get to know each other properly.” To his credit, he never laughed at that idea and would have gone along with it, too, if I hadn’t turned out to be such an irresolute, horny bastard. 

Also to his credit, he never teased me for my hypocrisy. He just accepted the sudden daily sex gratefully, never mind it was the exact opposite of my stated expectation for the relationship.

Once I’d had Baz in bed... I may as well have accepted that that would be it. He is such a good fit for me, and I like to think I’m a good fit for him, too. He’s a pretty man with long hair and has this graceful elegant way of doing... everything, and I spend an inordinate amount of time looking at him. But also he’s taller than me and not entirely cooperative. In some ways he’s kind of beyond me— definitely he’s smarter— and in certain circumstances is dominant. But our relationship is such that we get to take turns... and sometimes I’m the one who gets to assert how things are... and he just complies. 

I love that we get to have it both ways.

He’s more sexually experienced, but I’m more bold, so we both, at times, introduce new positions or bedroom games. And other times, there are no games. It’s straight-forward passion and desire and longing for closeness. It’s skin on skin contact, sweet smell of sweat, and eyes open (or shut, depending how awake we are). It’s the steady progression to orgasm, just as surely as the back and forth pull of a sea tide.

You see how it is-? Baz makes me think and talk like a fucking poet. I need to write some of these gushing feelings down into songs.

Baz:  
Now that Simon’s agreed to pose for me, I’m obsessed with figuring out how best to photograph him. I’ve promised I could do it in five sessions, and now that his tour date is approaching I need to start moving on it.

I’ve spent hours thinking how to do it... how to best capture the essence of Snow, and what he means to me.

I decide our first session will involve my idealization of him: he will be a beautiful magical creature of the forest, with wings— dragon wings— and a powerful long tail. 

Then, in another shoot, I will cast him as a prince, wearing a light blue baroque suit and an intricate masquerade-style mask (he wanted his identity hidden). This will be a close-up, and the focus will be on his eyes.

Thirdly, I will photograph him at night, by moonlight and lying on a bed. His face will be cloaked in shadow and emphasis will be on his body, in partial silhouette. The lines of his neck, the way his abdomen scoops into his hips... the way he watches me with half-closed eyes.

Another shoot would have to involve him being on stage, gritty and sexy, his clothes in tatters and his hair a tousled mop on his head, showing his neck in profile, jutting out toward the mic. I want to show the sweep of his turned up nose and I want to emphasize his youth and vigor.

And finally. Him and I together. Standing in a grove of trees, holding hands. He with his back to the camera (again, giving him that privacy he requires). Me standing there in my full beastly state, with horns and my black wraith cloak. Standing there like husbands.

I sigh. Like husbands. My fantasies surrounding Snow are turning thick... very thick.


	15. Those 3 Magic Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz gets jealous because Agatha keeps flirting with Simon. Their relationship is still secret, and that's starting to bother Baz. But Simon tells Baz that he loves him, and Baz reveals he has the same feelings for Simon. Chapter ends with some fluff of Simon in costume at his first photoshoot with Baz.

Chapter 15 Those 3 Magic Words

Baz:  
Simon’s playing at the book shop right now and Agatha’s in the crowd, as usual. She’s sitting at a table toward the front with Penny, looking Nordic and cute with her long hair in braids. She’s wearing a tight, figure-flattering top with a short full skirt and heels with criss-cross straps that wind up her ankles. Even with the heels on she will be pleasantly shorter than Simon, standing next to him, as I’m sure she knows.

She’s doing a lot of smiling and staring, sipping on her iced coffee through a straw. And he notices her… I’ve seen him give her at least one wink during this set.

Simon is starting a new song, with a catchy beat: “Sometimes,” he sings, in his husky voice, “Sometimes I like to lie. I don’t know why; I don’t know why.” I haven’t heard this one before. The beat picks up “I tell people wrong names and places; I don’t know why I don’t like those faces…”. I know I shouldn’t read into the lyrics of a song he probably wrote years ago, but given the context of our relationship’s secrecy and this apparent flirting with Agatha, I feel a tightening in my throat and chest. Are you lying to me, Simon?

With that I get up and make my way to join the girls. I make sure Simon sees me as I take my seat. I may not be an eager little slut (Baz, pull your claws back) in braids but I AM his lover, which trumps that, secret relationship or no. There’s a power in my carnal knowledge of him that I’m willing to flex, right now.

Simon meets my eyes and smiles at me; I don’t return the smile. He’s taken aback but looks away to continue his performance. I see him glance anxiously a couple more times, but at least there’s no additional winking at Agatha.

I know I look good in my own way… my dark, knowing “man” way. And it isn’t just supple little women he likes… he thoroughly appreciates me. But I wish, sometimes, people like Agatha were just out of the question for him, sexually. Will I ever get over the insecurity that I might not be enough?

I know it’s a personal problem and something that would be harmful to bring up to Simon. It would be unfair to him and could put questions in his head that I don’t want to be there.

Simon:  
I think Baz saw me wink at Agatha. I didn’t mean a thing by it, as he should well know; part of my stage persona is to be charming and playful with the audience, after all. And Agatha, sitting by Penny, is a friendly face, relatively harmless to make contact with.

But Baz stalked over to the table and sat down like he’d caught me. And he’s been looking fierce and shooting me icy looks, ever since.

Maybe, pre-Baz, I would have been more taken with Agatha’s charms. She’s a cutey with a nice body and soft feminine ways. She’s the kind of girl you want to open doors for and help carry stuff. But, Baz. What Baz and I have is torrid and hot and all-consuming. I am incapable of angling for someone else during this immersion with him. How can I get him to understand that?

Before our next song, I go talk to the guys. I want to go off-track with what we had planned to sing tonight with a cover song. It’s one we’ve done a lot before. But I’m going to sing it in a new way.

They start the opening. It’s a Beatles tune, and everyone will recognize it. But they will also notice what I’m doing with it that’s different. Probably I shouldn’t do it, but I want to send a message to Baz. I will try really hard not to stare at him during the song, only sending a few well-placed looks at him, here and there.

“Something in the way he moves,” I begin, “attracts me like no other lover. Something in the way he moves me…” and the audience begins clapping.

I make my way through the song, putting all my feeling and reverence for Baz into it. But I don’t look at him or Agatha… not till the end. And when my eyes finally meet his, his head is lifted up and his eyes are shining at me. He raises his glass to me. 

And Agatha… Agatha’s eyes are shooting daggers at him.

Baz:  
That night, when we were alone in my flat and getting ready for bed, I said, “Careful, Simon. If you sing songs like that too many times your secret’s going to be out of the bag.”

“I felt like you were insisting, Baz. That you needed for there to be a signal.”

“Maybe I did. Maybe I do. Maybe there should be at least one little signal like that for me every time you perform.”

“If that’s what it takes to get you not looking at me like you hate me, I’ll do it.”

“Oh, Simon,” I say, and take his hands, pulling him down onto the bed. We kiss and I push him back, so I can lay on top him and bury my face in his curls. “Did I do that? I probably did that. Why am I so jealous?”

“Well, we’re getting kind of intense… I guess this is part of it. Part of the intensity. But you really don’t need to be jealous, Baz.”

“You should sing that song ‘Jealous Guy’ next week.”

“The John Lennon song? Hmm. Maybe I should.” While we’re laying there, intertwined, he starts humming it, and softly singing the lyrics. “I was feeling insecure…”. He pauses, hesitating. And I swallow, because I know the next part. But then he finishes the words, and my heart soars. “You might not love me anymore.”

He pulls away, to look at me. He bites his lip.

“Baz, do you get it, what I’m saying? You don’t need to be jealous of anyone, because I love you. I love you.”

I inhale sharply and my breath comes out in a long shuddering sigh. “Simon.” And I kiss him. “Really?”

He nods. “I know it’s kind of fast and all, and you don’t need to say it back, but maybe you need to hear it from me. So you can put aside your worries about other people.”

“Simon,” I say, “I love you, too.”

Simon’s grip tightens and he flashes me his teeth in a smile that can only be described as triumphant. We both kind of laugh at that, I think as an intense relief washes over us. When we kiss again, it’s in earnest. We do a full body hug in which I clutch at him and marvel that he’s really mine.

Then it’s “I love you”, whispered over and over again by both of us, all night long. The words become a kind of mantra for our lovemaking, the sweet and spicy sauce that washes over our bodies as we press and rub and probe each other long into the night.

I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never experienced this intense feeling of agony (when there’s a doubt) that can be turned into ecstasy a moment later with a well-placed word or kiss or fond look. It’s a vulnerable, scary feeling that I guess will eventually get calmer the longer we’re together and the more trust we have in each other. But for now, wow. It’s a roller coaster. We were down, and now we’re “up.”

Please don’t break my heart, Simon Salisbury.

Simon:  
If Baz ever had a doubt that I loved him, that should all be erased… now that I’m standing here in a weird costume including wings and a tail, waiting for him to photograph me.

I told Baz I’d model for him, but since he has this weird gothic style, normal clothes won’t do. I’m wearing tight gray pants and gray boots with buckles and shit that actually ride above my knees, along with something loose and billowy that can only be described as a pirate shirt, and fake wings strapped over my shoulders (Baz will photoshop the straps away, later). Thank god he didn’t make me wear a wig or something. He did put a little make-up on me, “to make my face glow” and “bring out my eyes”. 

He put something on my lips, too.

He says I’m an elvin prince, but I’m pretty sure in reality I’m a silly-looking git. He tries to get me to stop scowling before the photograph, but after a minute of me not cooperating, he tilts his head, sighs, and nods. I guess he decides it’ll be a scowling elvin prince, then. “Cross your arms.” I do, leaning my weight on one hip, still scowling. He begins to photograph.

Clearly I love him a lot.


	16. The Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz continue their secret relationship but the secrecy is causing problems. Agatha is still hovering in the background, waiting for her chance with Simon. The boys love each other, but the secrecy is hard.

Chapter 16 “The Mask”

Baz:  
I knew the pictures of Simon would turn out great; I could hardly wait to go back to my office to pour over them. Even though I had dressed him up, posed him and shot the pictures myself, I wasn’t sure what I would end up with… I never am. There’s always an intention or original inspiration whenever I start a photo shoot, but the end result is different. I can try to manipulate it to conform during the photo editing process, but there’s always a “wild” element there. In the end I can only see where the art is headed and tweak it somewhat. It’s never entirely under my control.

That’s what makes it real.

So it’s exciting to engage in this process with Simon’s image. I intended these first few photos with him to have a kind of sexy energy, which they do... but as I look them over, I also see something that feels wistful and fleeting. He wasn’t fully cooperating with me that day, was he? There was something guarded and defiant, there. He was a beautiful boy who would not smile for me; I had to settle with a scowl. And so I see in these photos an independent man-child who may very well run into the woods or fly away into the sky… evading me. He’s a wild thing and I don’t quite have him yet.

Will I ever “have” him? Do I really want to have him in the sense that he becomes always compliant with me, always predictable? That’s not what I want… not really.

I want his wildness. That’s why I let him scowl during the photos… didn’t make him smile.

I flip through the photos quickly, marking the ones I like best. I love editing, but it needs to be done with a light touch or the raw beauty of the images is spoiled. So I start by simply photoshopping the wing straps away, so it looks like they actually sprout from his back. I adjust the lighting and the shadows and the background. I play with adding layers of fairy tale elements… fir trees and an ax… nope. I remove them. Perhaps a smiling cat in a tree? No. But a bear’s head poking out from behind a cottage? That fits. That’s a wild element… something that’s unexpected and perhaps frightening, but also classic… it reminds me of Goldielocks and the three bears… the house of chairs and beds and porridge that don’t quite fit or taste right, but are better than nothing. And so I leave it and continue, and when I’m done I’m satisfied that Simon looks truly enchanted.

But I don’t stop there. Simon doesn’t want to be recognized. With that in mind, I change the color of his eyes to a tawny brown. I add golden highlights to his hair and stretch the curls longer. But I will not alter his beautiful body shape… it would be an abomination to mess with the contour of his leg muscles or the slope of his shoulders or the sweep of his neck. All that is perfect, just as it is, and I will not tamper with it.

When I post the pictures to my website, there is almost an immediate response. People seem to agree with me; Simon is gorgeous. 

Agatha:  
I’m flipping through my phone one day when I see a new art post from Baz. It takes me less than ten seconds to realize that the winged boy in the forest is Simon. His appearance is altered slightly, but it’s not hard to figure out who he is if you know both of them. Especially since I know it was Baz’s intention to photograph Simon.

The photos look good. I feel a little tinge of regret that nothing ever came of that first electric meeting with Simon at the book shop, when he was performing. He really seemed taken with me. We went to coffee once, I helped bring about a RECORD DEAL for him… and I’ve been friend-zoned.

I think it over. Maybe I never had a chance, once Baz took a fancy to Simon. And that seems to be without question… they met the same day Simon and I met, but look how often Baz sees Simon. Besides the weekly gig at the book shop, there’s been meetings for business advice, and now this photography. I suspect there’s been a little socialization… maybe a lot. Simon hasn’t led me on in any way; he’s kept me at arm’s distance. But he’s never made an honest statement to me about him and Baz. And Baz has never said anything directly, either. 

It kind of sucks.

I suppose they’re being secretive because of the recording deal. I suggested to my uncle that I put a clause in there pertaining to Simon’s public image. And I may have pointed that line out to him, specifically, at one time. I suppose I did that because I was glad he was single and wanted him to stay that way. I’d hoped to date him myself, at one point. But if he’s already involved with Baz, that may be unlikely.

Still. I don’t think I should consider Simon off-limits, yet. He hasn’t said anything to anybody about a relationship; he’s not wearing a ring. He has his own place and he works a lot. It may simply be that he doesn’t have time for anything or anyone else, right now. But once he goes on tour and doesn’t have that bakery job to distract him, and I’m tagging along helping the band make it to their first bookings, he and I will have a lot more time together. Who knows what will happen? Baz won’t be around to interfere and things may end up being very different.

Baz:  
Simon spent Friday morning at the recording studio, but he met me for lunch. Afterwards I talk him into doing a little impromptu clothes-shopping, so he has “something to wear for the concert tonight.” He’ll be doing his weekly gig at the book shop.

He isn’t in his comfort zone clothes shopping, but that’s okay… I am. I immediately take him to a little boutique that I’ve had in mind for him, for awhile. He looks around nervously, but I guide him over to a rack of shirts and hold one up to his chest. “This blue would look great with your eyes.” We find a few more shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans. I wait outside the dressing room while he tries things on.

“Do you want to see it, Baz?” he calls out.

“Of course.”

He pushes the curtain aside and steps out of the dressing room. I cock an eyebrow and nod appreciatively when I see him. He blushes. The blue shirt and jeans look great together. “Should I tuck it in?” he asks.

“Definitely not.” He leaves the shirt untucked, and spins around.

“That’s a ‘yes’,” I say. 

I’m ready for them to ring things up at the register, and start to pull out my wallet. “You’re not buying my damn clothes, Baz,” Simon says stubbornly, chin jutting out. “Why not?” I ask. “It was my idea.”

“Because I’m my own person.”

“Of course you are. But can’t I buy my boyfriend a gift?”

“Maybe when it’s my birthday. Or Christmas. Or something.”

“Okay, Simon; fine.” I say that, but I don’t like it. It feels like a barrier Simon has put up between us: my clothes, me vs. “your clothes”, you. 

The secrecy of our relationship is enough of a barrier. We don’t need more of it. But I say nothing because I don’t want to make more out of a revealing little detail than there needs to be.

I resolve to keep some secrets and independence, too.

It takes long enough to get through the checkout line for me to let the dark thoughts go and come back to the moment. We walk back out onto the street. The apartment’s just a few blocks away. “Let’s go home for awhile, shall we?” I ask, with perhaps a particular thought in mind. He catches my expression and grins. 

“Let’s.”

Once we’re home and safely locked inside the apartment, Simon drops the clothes bag to the floor and shrugs out of his jacket. I run my hands up his chest and tug him closer. We kiss, and as always, one kiss turns into more kisses. I end up pulling him by the hand into the bedroom, and he doesn’t resist at all.

We sit on the edge of the bed and take our shoes off. I lay back on the pillows and Simon climbs over the top of me, straddling my waist and doing that lovely thing where he makes me reach up for his kisses. 

Simon:

I look down at Baz. His dark hair is spilled over the pillow and his grey eyes are looking up at me through half-closed lids. He looks relaxed and luxuriant; there’s a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips. 

We’ve been together a few months now, but I still can’t believe this… I still can’t quite believe that I get to have HIM. He’s so sexy and so wonderful. I love his looks and the way he smells and his voice and all of his touches. I love his long hands and the way he says my name and that bedroom look he gives me. I love his sighs and his moans and his laughs and when he cocks an eyebrow at me. I love his humor and his moods and the way he peers at me when he’s wearing glasses.

I love all of it.

But somehow it doesn’t seem quite real. That’s probably because we’re still a secret. He’s never met Ebb and he’s not there on my movie nights with Penny. He doesn’t come to my band practices as a regular thing and we don’t even hold hands when we’re walking out on the street. These restrictions on our behavior are all because of ME, but sometimes I have trouble remembering why I’m putting us through all that. Why the limitation? Why can’t I let us be a real couple?

Then it’s like I have to remind myself. I lecture myself. Because I want this recording deal. Because I want to be popular with fans. Because I don’t want to disappoint anyone. 

The longer it goes on, this secrecy, the more I determine that it can only be temporary. At some point I want a real relationship with Baz — one that doesn’t have any limitations or lies. One that’s open and public and healthy. 

Sometimes I feel a kernel of fear, about that. But it isn’t so much fear over what will happen if fans hate it and reject me in the end. The fear is that I won’t give Baz a real relationship soon enough, and he’ll leave me.

Baz:  
When Simon takes the stage that night, he’s wearing the blue shirt and jeans we bought together. Well… that HE bought for himself. Stubborn git. And my heart does a little flutter, because he has the shirt untucked, just like we talked about, and it’s tight enough to hug his hips a little and stretch nicely over the shoulders. His hair is still damp from the shower, which he had to take after we shagged. His eyes are flashing under the lights and I hear his husky laugh as he and the guys figure out their set.

He leans against the bar stool up on stage and scans the audience until his eyes lock on mine. He smiles and my heart does another little “thump thump.” But then he looks away. Because he has to. 

I wish he didn’t have to.

Simon:  
I like having Baz in the audience. When I sing it gets so emotional… there’s all these ups and downs, and having Baz here grounds me. Plus I have a surprise for him tonight. Well, not really a surprise… he’s the one who suggested I do this song. The guys and I have been working on “Jealous Guy”, and I’m finally ready to perform it on stage. (It’s the song that led to our first love confession to each other).

I wish I could look at him during the whole length of the song, but Agatha’s here so I better not.

She’s coming with us for the first three weeks of our tour. She’ll help us figure out how to get places and how we should interact with the different people we’ll meet along the way — the sound crews, the venue owners, the fans. She’ll even ride with us on the tour bus and stay in the same motels. 

Definitely Baz won’t be able to come visit me during those first three weeks. It’ll be hard to hide our feelings for each other with Agatha around that much. I don’t want to put Baz through that. Our extended periods of alone-time are probably the only thing that keeps us sane.

Agatha. Not sure how to feel about her… friend or foe? She’s the one who told me about that clause in our contract… the one where I’m supposed to stay single for my public image. Is she trying to control me? On the other hand, she’s helped me so much. She’s the one who told her uncle to come hear us play, and now we have a recording deal and the chance of a lifetime. I look over at her; she’s smiling at me. 

I ALMOST give her a wink before I remember… Baz... and so simply start the chords for “Jealous Guy”.

It’s a beautiful song. I hope Baz remembers how I told them he doesn’t need to be a jealous guy, because I love him. I hope he remembers all the “I love you’s” and gentle kisses we gave each other that night… that we give each other every night. He’s everything to me. Almost right from the start I made him promise not to see other people… how can he think I would ever ask him that without giving the same devotion in return? It makes my eyes sting, to think of him doubting me for one second.

But I’m wearing my public closet door, so to speak. I’m on stage and the girls are gazing up at me, in tender devotion, including Agatha. So I don’t look at Baz while I sing it. I sing the words like I might be singing to anyone… maybe a special girl. But I’m thinking of him the whole time. What he means to me and what we mean to each other. How horrible it would be to lose him to someone else... or to lose him to jealousy. I pack all of that emotion into the song, and I know my voice carries it, rough and cracking in all the right places, showing my vulnerability.

But nevermind. Someday he’ll have all of me.

When that day comes I’ll be able to invite him up onto stage with me. We’ll be the kind of couple who are together so much people kind of say our name as one word... “SimonandBaz”. We’ll be invited to all the same parties and have all the same friends. I won’t have to keep that separate apartment. Everything will be “ours”, rather than “his” or “mine”. 

But we’re not there yet. And so it is that I don’t look at him at all during the song, even though I’m thinking of him the whole time. And when I do look over at him, during another song, he’s not looking at me. He’s looking away. I think he’s disappointed. 

“I’m sorry, Baz,” I think to myself

Baz:

I want him to look at me as he sings it. I look at him and just will him to look at me. There’s so much longing in my heart over this song… he must feel it. But he never looks. Not once, not a peek. 

I’m being silly, because of course he can’t “feel” my feelings when he’s not even looking at me. But I still experience it as a bitter disappointment. My heart sits in my throat and I can hardly swallow past it. 

“Oh, Simon,” I think.

I have got to do what I can to put some separation between the two of us. I’ve let him and these thoughts surrounding him take over my whole world. It’s not healthy and it’s not sustainable. He’s going to leave on tour and then I’ll be left with just… me. And somehow I will have to carry on. 

Best to get used to it now.

By the time Simon’s done with his two hour set, my “moment” has passed. I act as if nothing is wrong, but I don’t think Simon’s buying it. He’s looking at me closely and trying to quietly touch my hand, even while we’re still at the book shop.

But he gets no piece of my inner thoughts and fears that night. I’ve decided those are mine to keep. My secret.

*********

It’s our second photo shoot, and Simon’s wearing the custom-made suit I ordered for him. I hired a theatrical costume designer for the actual tailoring, as the design is 18th century and I want him to look authentic. He’s wearing a white shirt with ruffled sleeves and ruffles at the neck, a light blue satin vest, and a gray silk suit coat and breeches. His stockings are white and his shoes have heels and buckles, so when we stand side by side we are now almost the same height. Actually, he’s taller — if you count the tricorn hat- which he’s wearing over a white powdered wig. His “hair” is fastened back with a bow, and an elaborate silver masquerade mask covers the top half of his face. 

I feel an odd sort of trepidation, setting up the photo shoot for this version of Simon. This time he’s virtually unrecognizable, his identity concealed by the mask and all the layers he’s wearing. He’s a stranger… a compelling stranger. In the dark or on the street, I could pass him without knowing who he is. He could be holding hands with someone else, and it wouldn’t be significant to me because I wouldn’t know it was him.

This is going to be a hard series of photos for me to take. I know he’ll look beautiful… that’s not the problem.

The problem is the mask. I’m really starting to hate the mask that hides his face from me, just as I hate the mask we wear while in public and no one can know we’re together. 

But I need to take these photos this way, because THIS is our reality. And I will acknowledge that and make it into art. It’s the way I deal with things.

“Baz?” he asks. “You ready to photograph? I’m getting hot and this wig is itchy.”

“Yes, love,” I say, gallantly grabbing his hand and leaning over to kiss it, like an 18th century gentleman might kiss the gloved hand of his lady love.

Simon smiles but he looks at me like I'm a sphynx. He doesn’t understand me at all.


	17. The Night It All Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz do a photo shoot in the bedroom... but first they have some incredible sex. Something unexpected-and romantic- happens in between that and their next chapter... I think you will like this chapter very much :). Thanks to sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire for helping me get more detailed in the love scene. ❤️❤️❤️

Chapter 17 The Night It All Changed

Baz:

The weeks with Simon go by quickly. Each day brings us closer to the time when he will have to go on tour. Every day he spends hours rehearsing with the guys, recording, or writing music, papers strewn across the living room floor as he frowns over his guitar, humming to himself. I go to the book shop every day as if my life isn’t about to turn upside down.

We do what we can to pretend it isn’t real… all the homey little things that ordinary couples do together. We go to the store to pick up groceries, fix dinner, or argue over the remote control. 

Every night — and, additionally, sometimes on a stolen afternoon or the lazy sunshine of a weekend morning — we make love. And it never fails to move me. I think my heart breaks a little more every time we’re together, because it’s so good and I can’t imagine what it will be like for me when he’s not here… when I’m alone. 

But tonight’s the night… the night of our third photoshoot. And so I focus on preparations for that.

Simon:

Baz is taking my picture again. I know what he’s planning to do, but it’s still a jarring (unpleasant) surprise to come home and find a camera and lights set up in our bedroom. Baz is propping up a light gray cardboard backdrop on the floor alongside my side of the bed. He has it wedged between a pair of his shoes, so it won’t fall over as easily.

I say nothing as I change out of my work clothes into sweats and a t-shirt. But then I pause. “Am I supposed to wear something special?”

“No, dear, nothing special. And don’t worry about the photos yet. We’ll be doing that after we go to bed.”

I grimace. I still can’t believe I agreed to let him photograph me in bed. 

We pad in stocking feet out to the kitchen, where I’ve set boxes of Thai carry-out onto the counter. We pull up next to each other on stools and have our noodles as we silently flick through our phones. Normally it would be a companionable silence, but now my nerves are rather taut and I’m mostly just pretending to look at my phone, as a way to avoid conversation. I am more than a little preoccupied with this freaking bedroom plan of Baz’s.

“Why in our bedroom, Baz?”

“Authenticity.”

“I don’t want ANYONE to know it’s me when they look at the photos.”

“They won’t. You’ll be completely in silhouette.”

“And I don’t want nudity.”

“You’ll be photographed from the waist up.”

I sigh. “Why do you think we should have sex first?”

“Just an idea I had and it’s totally up to you. I was hoping to capture a tender mood.”

“I’d never say no to sex with you. It’s the rest that worries me. I don’t know if I can do ‘tender’ for the photoshoot tonight. ‘Tension’, maybe, but that’s it.”

“I never expect you to make it easy. But we’ll work on… finding the appropriate mood... when the time comes.”

How can he be so calm? Bloody Baz.

Baz:

I almost consider letting Simon off the hook. Contrary to what he thinks, I don’t enjoy upsetting him. And he has made it abundantly clear he doesn’t like a camera in our bedroom.

But in my mind this is one of those things that we “have” to do before he leaves. Something he agreed to a long time ago, just as I have agreed to things for him. Things like keeping secrets and suppressing my desire for us to be a normal couple. It’s all part of the deal we wrought: a concession to my art, and something that I will insist on having, for myself. 

A memento of his trust and our intimacy. 

In a month, I don’t know what we’ll have together. But these photos will always be mine, to edit and lament over and rework into a thousand different artistic expressions. 

Simon:

We ate, had some wine, and listened to music. After a while I got the bee out of my bonnet and we talked, but not about anything hard. I felt myself reluctantly start to relax. 

We moved to the bedroom. Baz’s photography stuff is still there, of course, but he turns the lights out quickly and I decide not to be an ass about it. We undress, Baz neatly putting his worn clothes in the hamper while my things lay strewn on the floor. We slip under the covers and gravitate toward the warmth of each other.

I can never stay mad at Baz when we’re touching. He’s too important to me; he’s too right. I lay my head on his shoulder and nestle up into the crook of his neck, smelling his woodsy, citrusy scent. Our hands just automatically start reaching for each other. He finds my arm, running his hand up and down it, before letting his hand drop to my waist. I rub a hand absent-mindedly back and forth on his chest.

I love him.

We’re kissing now and I’ve lifted my head up off his chest, so I can prop myself up on one elbow and lean over him. I bring my free hand up to his face and push his hair back. I look at him and wait for my eyes to adjust to the dark. I like to see him when we’re in bed; he’s so beautiful. I’ll just never get over that. 

He sighs happily as my kisses move from his lips to his face. I can’t believe there was a day when I didn’t kiss his face regularly. His cheek, his jawline, his temples… all so kissable. I run my lips across his face, placing gentle kisses along the way as I position myself further over him. 

Baz lying underneath me feels just right. When I lay on top of him, he lets me take the lead. He becomes patient and luxurious, squirming underneath me if I press or rub him in the right way, but waiting for me just the same. It’s like a little game we play with each other: the person on top calls the shots. 

I want to mount him tonight. 

But I take my time, because that’s what Baz deserves. He never rushes anything when we’re in bed together. He makes me feel as if every little thing he does to me is as important as the sex, as if it’s a wonderful thing in and of itself… like enjoying the drive is as important as arriving at the destination. He’s never said that in words, but that’s how he is in bed. I don’t fully understand what he means by it, either, because Baz in many ways is a mystery to me.

I’m a pretty straight-forward guy. I enjoy Baz and I want to give him whatever he wants. I’m probably not the most tender person out there. I’m not very good at pillow talk or feelings talk of any kind.  
But I’m sure of one thing — I can make Baz feel good. 

I keep kissing him and let my hands explore his body, every inch of him. I start by trailing kisses along his collarbone and keep going down and down… I let my lips trace every lean muscle and all the soft flesh I can find. I cover his skin with my lips and my hands and make him tremble from pleasure. Soft moans escape his lips before I even reach his stomach.  
I feel Baz getting harder under my body. It’s driving me mad to know he enjoys me this way before I even enter him. That it’s not only the sex itself. That my touches and my kisses turn him on equally. Just the thought of it is making me hard.

I keep flicking my eyes up to him, because watching Baz when he’s enjoying himself under my hands and lips has become my new favourite thing. Part of me wants to rush through it and claim him now. But the other part, the one that loves him so much, wants this — the tender and the meaningful... it wants to let Baz know how much he means to me, how in love with him I am. Every kiss to his skin is an “I love you” to Baz.

I drag my lips and lick everywhere around his waist and his lower belly while my hands move in circles on his skin. His hands end up in my hair and when I place a kiss a little lower — his grip tightens and he gasps.  
Baz is so lovely like this — his cheeks flushed, breathing heavy. I want to give him everything he deserves. I can’t give him everything yet, but I can give him my love. Here — in this bed, I prove how much he means to me. I’m enjoying him already. The noises slipping from his lips are incredible. 

Baz is never reserved in bed. He lets me have him whole. He lets me take whatever I want. I do my best to give it back to him ten fold. Baz has all of me, as well. There’s nothing to hide from anyone when it’s just the two of us. It’s only our love that matters and the beauty of his body under mine.

I’ve been kissing him and caressing his body for what feels like forever. And it’s so good, as always.

I kiss Baz on his inner thighs and move my hands alongs his hips, the movements becoming more rushed. (I’m not sure how long I can stay just kissing — I want him so much.) But not yet. A few more moments of this— the pleasure and the agony of lips on skin while we both get harder to the point of no return.

Then I place a few kisses all around his hardness. Both because Baz likes that and because I like to rile him up. I like him moaning and gasping before I enter him. And he’s giving me that. “Simon…” he says, soft and desperate. (I know what he’s feeling because I’m feeling the same). 

I trail a few kisses onto his hardness and he loses any semblance of control. “Oh yes...” (He’s ready.)

Baz is pulling on my hair and moaning out loud when I finally take him into my mouth. He’s hard and wanting. I want to keep going. But today I need to be inside of him. 

I should have taken out the lube before, but I was in a bit of a mood earlier, wasn’t I? Now I need to detach my mouth from Baz in order to get it (my own fault). I do and come back to him as soon as humanly possible. I want him so much. 

Baz is impassioned too, even if he’s trying to be patient.  
I come back to him and we resume the kissing. It’s open-mouthed and he’s shaking with excitement because he knows I have the lube. After I spread a generous amount of it onto my finger, I tease him a bit. A shuddered breath comes from Baz, and I look up at him because it’s delicious to hear and see him like that — lovely, hard and wanting... 

I get a sudden craving to lick him before continuing. It’s a different lube, not the edible kind that we used before. But what the fuck, most of those commercials are a bunch of lies. Can’t be much different can it? I lean in and lick him.

Oh, hell! Nope! The lube has the worst kind of plasticy chemical taste. I have to hold in the immediate need to gargle my mouth after, but I do take a sip from the water bottle I spot lying on the bed. 

Huh, seems Baz was right after all and the edible lube isn’t an advertising propaganda. Baz watches me and stays silent, except for a small amused smile on his lips. He’s always considerate of me in the bedroom, no matter what idiotic thing I do… and sometimes I do massively stupid things. 

Baz might always be this way with me— not just in the bedroom. But I probably pay the closest attention to him in the bedroom, so this is where I notice it. When I’m writing music I get so lost in the writing process I miss a lot.

Okay. Having recovered from my ill-advised attempt to lick inedible lube, I return to the matter at hand. Baz’s bum. I tease at his opening with my finger and silently curse my stupidity for not licking him first, BEFORE I put the lube on. But never mind: Baz likes this, too. The small sighs and moans coming from him tell me everything I need to know. And the sight of his beautiful body and hardness for me put me back into the right mood. (I’m still full with want for him.)

Slowly and gently I start to probe him with my first finger. We’ve done this enough times for me to know how to start it right for him. I still make sure not to get impassioned. I’d rather take longer now and make sure Baz is enjoying himself than worry about it later. As I go deeper, Baz starts to moan louder and by the time my whole finger is in, he’s begging me for more.  
”Please…” I add another finger and it doesn’t take long before I’m curling them just right. “Oh… Simon… more...” He gasps and gives me an extremely lustful look, his eyes heavy-lidded and smoldering.

I kiss his (lube-free) inner thighs and add the third finger. I love how welcoming he feels, how responsive... his desire towards me ignites a fire inside my heart and makes me more than willing to do anything he wants.  
“Yes…” He’s gasping and starts to push against me, rocking on my fingers, hard and fast...  
“Are you ready, love? I ask as I take out my fingers and get back on top of him.

“Yes,” Baz says and meets my lips with his. “Take me, Simon…do it...” he’s arching up toward me and his face is flushed. His head is pressed back against the pillow and he’s looking up at me, practically begging. I can deny him nothing, when he’s looking at me that way. A sound like a growl escapes my lips; to say I’m feeling impassioned right now would be an understatement. I can’t wait to finally have him. He must understand my desire, because he moans and licks his lips… he looks wanton. I hurriedly place our ”sex pillow” and a towel under him and settle myself right. I tease him with my hardness first, which makes him gasp. That’s an automatic turn on and since I was already there, I almost groan from my want for him.

I enter Baz at last, slowly to give him time to adjust to me, inching my way inside him with my well-lubed cock. He moans the whole time I do it, and it’s a good moan... the kind that makes me feel like king of the world… like I’m some sort of sex god. No one but Baz makes me feel like this; with anyone else, I’m a regular bloke. But with Baz… I’m so much more. He makes me more, the blarmy magical bastard. His body is incredible, but it’s his soul that made me fall in love with him. Baz is a beautiful person, inside and out. 

By the time I’m fully inside him, I feel myself encased in his delicious warm tightness. I start sliding back and forth, in and out, keeping it slow. As I increase speed over time I hear myself panting and listen to the gasps escaping his lips. “Harder… love…” Baz pleads and I gladly give that to him. I take hold of his hips and slam into him just the way he likes it. “YES...” comes from him as a shriek of pleasure. ”Don’t..stop!” He’s screaming at me. (What was that about ‘whoever’s on top is in charge?’ I’m not in charge, not really, because I need to do whatever Baz wants).

”Wasn’t.. planning.. on stopping,” I manage to choke out, going as fast as I can and holding his hips in a tight grip. (I have a lot of energy and he takes it ALL).  
He wants it… I know he does. While here in bed, I’m tuned in to Baz... bed is where I understand him best of all.

What we’re doing now feels SO. Incredible. Baz feels so incredible. ”Oh… Simon…” he pleads and I lean forward more and continue giving him my all. He’s so generous towards me himself, giving me all his love. I want him and I love him. This moment is heavenly and never ending, when we’re honest and as one. This is where I feel connected to his soul in a way I can’t be at any other time, at least not yet…

I’m sweating, I’m straining… my eyebrows are knit together and I’m biting my lip because I’m trying so hard for him. Trying to give him pleasure and trying not to lose it. I love him. Pounding my hips against him, I try to convey my love. Baz looks back up at me and smiles through another gasp. He reaches up and touches my face… touches the lip I’m biting before leaning back on the bed and letting me have him some more…

He’s gorgeous and he wants me. I’m not blind, I see how other blokes look at him when we are walking outside. And nothing about us says relationship because I can’t even hold his hand in public (that’s on me.) I’m an idiot not to scream my love to him from the rooftops… he’s mine and everyone else needs to stay the fuck away… I see that now in bed… I know that now, in this moment of pounding into him…

Still. Baz lets me be with him and have him like this. He pushes those other guys away and he keeps himself mine, even though I haven’t made it easier for him by claiming him publicly. He takes my stupid parameters and he chooses me. He moans my name and never cares for the others.  
The thought of that makes me go faster and harder just the way Baz likes it. (I love it, his tightness and him.)

He’s so handsome and sensual; every sound and expression that comes from Baz makes my heart ache with love and want for him. Being inside Baz makes me feel high in the best possible way. There’s no side-effects except for the eventual overpowering orgasm.

We’re both gasping with shuddered breath and I know neither of us can hold on much longer.

“..es...” His gasps are getting less coherent and I know it’s time.  
I take hold of his hardness and hope I can wait it out and not get there first. But Baz is too vocal for me to keep going. ”Simon…” He’s screaming my name in ecstasy, holding onto the sheets, almost clawing them, and I’m gone for it. Fucking beautiful bastard. I shudder into him, my hold on him tightening before I exhale and collapse in gratification and exhaustion.

I place lips on his neck in a bit of an apology, as I try to calm down. Meanwhile, I move my hand to bring him his own release. He’s still gasping against me, pushing his hardness into my fist as I claim his mouth with mine and he follows me “home.” I kiss him through the peak of his pleasure.  
Baz’s back arches when he finally reaches his own satisfaction and he shudders into me. We share a few heavy breaths between the two of us.

“You’re incredible,” I tell him, kissing him on his luscious lips.  
“And you are very impressive,” he answers in a soft voice and smiles at me. 

He’s the impressive one. We’re both a bit rumpled and Baz has a few stray hairs stuck to his forehead. I move them away and kiss him again. I want him forever.

We clean up hurriedly and get back to bed and into each other's arms. I never thought of myself as a cuddler, but then again, I’ve never had someone like Baz before. He’s too good not to cuddle with.

Baz lays with his head on my chest and I stroke his hair softly. I feel so relaxed and content, lying here with him. I kiss his head. “I love you,” I say. 

“Mmm,” he says in reply, snuggling into me. “I love you, too.”

“Are you going to take that picture now?”

He chuckles softly and reaches up to meet my lips. “I should probably remember to do that, huh?”

“Well, I don’t want all this to be for nothing,” I joke. “If we wait too long we’ll have to do it all again.”

“Ughh… that would be terrible,” he replies (the bastard). Luckily I don’t believe him for a minute.

“Baz,” I say, pulling him closer. “You wanted ‘tender.’ Well. I feel nothing but tender for you. I don’t think you even know how much I love you.”

“I think I have an idea, Simon. Based on the way I feel about you.”

“Yeah? Are you going to stay with me forever?”

“Are you going to let me?”

“I’m going to insist that you do.”

“What if you meet someone else while you’re out on tour?”

“I’m sure I’ll meet all kinds of people. But they’re not going to mean a thing to me. And after Agatha’s gone you’re going to start coming out to visit me, right?”

“Maybe.”

“‘Maybe’, huh?” I know he’s teasing but I wish he’d be a little more reassuring. “Maybe you better go ahead and take those photos before my tender feelings are gone.”

He smirks and begins to disconnect himself from me. I pull him back and kiss his mouth again, long and hard. He looks into my eyes deeply and I meet his gaze, chin jutting out stubbornly. “Just had to re-establish the tender feelings.” I kiss him again, shorter this time. “Visiting me on tour is non-negotiable. You have to come.”

He sighs and smiles wistfully before pulling up. “As if I could stay away. You’re going to feel haunted by me, Snow, the way I’ll be following you around.”

He sits up and looks down at me. “Okay. Just a few shots and then we’re going back to bed. I don’t think our most pressing business tonight is photography, Snow.”

I love hearing him say that. 

Baz is nude when he walks around the bed to my side, where the screen’s set up. My eyes are fully adjusted to the dark now, so my view of his naked body is excellent. He’s so toned and fit… his stomach taut and a faint line of hair trailing down, the rest cloaked in shadow. His shoulders, his hips, his thighs… the shape of him undressed is so familiar now, but it never ceases to amaze me. He clicks a light on, behind the screen. It’s bright at first and my eyes close reflexively. I open them again, a crack, and let them adjust.

“Remember, the way I have this set up you’ll be in shadow and silhouette.”

“And you’ll show me the photos before you post them anywhere?”

“Of course.”

He walks back over to his side of the bed, and the camera. “I want you to lie just like that but look up at me. Maybe stretch your left arm out above your head and lay on it… good. Tilt your head forward… no; too much. Like this,” and he gently touches my chin and moves my face to where he wants it.

He steps back and looks at me. “You’re so beautiful, Simon.” He gets behind the camera and starts clicking photos. “Now lay on your back. Turn your head away from me… yes. Like that. I’m going to push the blanket down, just a hair…”

“Remember, whatever photo you post of me, the internet creepers are going to be looking at it.”

He snorts. “Do not say that.” He takes another series of photos. “It’s possible some of these might be for private viewing only.” 

“Well, in that case…” I say provocatively, lowering the blanket down a notch and pushing my bum up toward him. 

“Simon-!”

I pull the blanket up and grin cheekily. I don’t think he took a picture, but I bet he’s blushing.

“I think you’re warming up to this, Simon. Your natural vixen is coming out.”

We take a few more photos… playful and light-hearted and no doubt cheesy… I doubt that batch will make it to his art site. Too silly and simple. 

“Alright,” he says, “Last batch. I want you to roll over so your back’s to me… with your backside covered, Simon… just a little bit of hip showing. Lay your arm along the edge of your hip. Good.” And he takes another series of pictures.

“Perfect. That’s it; that’s all I need. For tonight.”

“I hope that’s not ‘all you need’, Pitch. Because I’ve got something more to give you.”

“Have you, now,” he murmurs happily. “Well, we’ll have to see if I’m prepared to receive it. Because this time I’ll be on top.”

“Feeling dominant now, are you,” I reply with a little catch in my voice. I like him on top. He’s chuckling softly as he stands by the bed to reach over and turn the light off. I reach up and brush my hand against his thigh. 

********

Simon:

After that last session together, I decide I’m comfortable with Baz photographing me. Comfortable enough to even let him take pictures the next time I perform at the book shop.

I let him dress me up a little. I’m wearing my old jeans but one of Baz’s tops… a floral print, no less. And I let Baz wrap a long scarf around my neck. “There,” he said, making it fall “just so.” “You look good.”

“Good enough to kiss?”

“Maybe.”

“Good enough to shag?”

“Possibly.”

I don’t know what makes me say it… I didn’t plan to say it. It just kind of comes tumbling out, like last night’s premature orgasm.

“Good enough to marry?”

If Baz were drinking coffee it would be splattered all over my face right now.

“What did you say-?”

“You heard me, Pitch. I want you to marry me.”

“But no one even knows that we’re dating!”

“Technicalities.”

“Simon,” Baz says, purposefully. “Are you even serious?”

I swallow hard. Am I serious? As I didn’t have this all planned out, I take a minute, to be sure. I look at him. His eyes are hesitant, cautiously happy, waiting. He’s looking back and forth between my eyes, like he’s searching for clues. I step forward and take his hands. I don’t need to think anymore about this.

“Baz, I love you. I want to be with you forever.” I take a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”

His breath catches into something almost like a sob as he closes the distance between us and his lips crash into mine. 

“Yes.”

That one little word is everything. It makes my heart soar. I pull our lips apart and begin kissing him all over his face in earnest, my hands touching every part of him I can. The kisses on his face taste salty now… he’s crying, and I find that so am I.

“You,” I choke out. “You make me so happy.”

“I just want to be with you, Simon. That’s literally all I want.”

“I don’t deserve you. You’re going to come to your senses and realize what a boring git I am.”

“Never.”

We talk in soft voices and move to the couch. We laugh and wipe the tears off each other’s faces. Baz accidentally snorts as he laughs, at one point, and then we’re laughing and kissing again, teeth clanking together awkwardly like tea cups, but it feels wonderful.

We revel in each other like that until it’s time to leave for the book shop.

Baz:

My heart feels light, so hopeful and excited. Simon. I’m going to marry to Simon. As in “I’d like you to meet my husband, Simon.”

“And the reservation is for-?”

“Mr. and Mr. Salisbury-Pitch.”

My mind darts back and forth between different scenarios until the old Pitch reality check & realism sets back in. After all, at no point did we decide tonight that we’re going to run out and tell people. He’s still going to perform tonight as Snow, to a room of his adoring fans, and I will simply be the guy in the background, taking his picture.

We’re doing that fourth photo shoot tonight… the one where I capture him singing on stage. Simon didn’t even blink an eye when I told him the concept. I guess after the bedroom shoot, anything else is fine and doesn’t need to be argued over.

So when the time comes we hurry up and gather what we need— his sound equipment and my camera and tripod. Once we have all the essentials, we dash off to the gig.

The other guys are already there, setting up. “Hey Simon… and Baz,” Harvey says, quizzically, inspecting us closely. At least HE suspects there’s something between us... good. Now stay the hell away, Harvey, I think to myself.

“Sorry I’m late,” Simon tells them. “Baz wanted to meet and discuss the photo shoot tonight.”

“Anything we need to know or do differently for that?” Harvey asks, probably to see how I’ll answer.

“No, just be yourselves. Try not to look into the camera.”

“Got it.”

As they get down to the business of choosing which set of songs they’ll do tonight, I migrate over to the coffee bar. And Penny.

She’s looking at me more closely, too. “What’s going on, Baz?”

“Pardon?”

“What’s going on between you and Simon?”

I look at her and shrug. “Why don’t you ask Simon when the two of you aren’t at work?”

“Ah. Yes, I’ll do that. But I think you’re telling me everything I need to know, already. Your blush is, anyway.”

“I can’t say anything, Penny.”

“At least tell me if you’re happy.”

“I am.”

She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

Simon belts out another stellar performance that night, and this time I capture it on film. The lights, the way Simon’s hair curls up with sweat as he moves around stage. His joy and his cheeky winks at the audience. His long neck and his chin jutting out toward the mic. 

His stolen glances at ME… more than ever before. That gives me hope.

But Agatha’s here, again. She sees me photographing. “Your new muse, eh, Baz?”

“These will be photos the record company can use, if they want to,” I tell her.

She looks surprised. “I thought everything was for your art.”

“Not these. These are for Simon.”

“Well show me how they turn out, tomorrow! We could use any good ones for publicity… maybe even a CD cover.”

“You could.”

“You like him, don’t you, Baz?”

I look her over. “Are you asking as my friend or as Simon’s new business associate and backer?”

“I’m asking as your friend.”

“I know Simon has a tour to do. I won’t interfere with that.”

“Baz. You know how close-minded people are. The best thing you could do for Simon at this point in his career is to stay in the background.”

“So I’m told.”

“He deserves this chance. He’s going to make it big. Look at him, Baz… listen to him. He’s like one of the Beatles, or something.”

“You don’t have to convince me to stay quiet, Agatha. I want whatever Simon thinks is best.”

She smiles and rubs my shoulder a little before walking away. I don’t think I like her very much, at this moment.

But never mind. I go back to watching and listening to the boy in the band… my fiancé.


	18. Everything is Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz and Simon are finally honest with Penny and their families, but can they also be honest in bed? (The answer is YES).

Chapter 18

Simon:

When I meet Penny for lunch the next day, her eyes are full of questions. We hug and a hostess seats us, but the questions start bubbling up out of Penny’s mouth before we even have our coats off.

“Well? Something to tell me about you and Baz?”

I take a deep breath and smile. Technically it’s still a secret, but I can’t keep hiding something like this from her, especially if she’s going to ask about it directly. She’s a good friend and deserves to know. Plus, I’m happy. I want to tell her.

“We’ve been seeing each other awhile now. We’re boyfriends.”

“I knew it!! How long?”

“You won’t be mad if I tell you?”

“Mad-? Has this been going on awhile?”

“Over three months.”

“No. Way. Why the secrecy? How did you even hide it that long??”

I sigh. “Penny, it’s not easy coming out of the closet. Plus now I have this tour to start and I’m supposed to be thinking about my image. So I want you to know about it, but we’re not telling everyone else yet, okay?”

“Of course that’s your choice, but how could you sit on something this big for so long… without telling me? I thought we were closer. Hell; I thought Baz and I were closer.”

“I’m sorry, Penny. It hasn’t been easy. I’ve wanted to tell you. And Baz would have told you everything from the start, but I made him keep it a secret. Don’t be mad at Baz.”

“You definitely could have told me on one of our movie nights,” she observes, peevishly. I must look distressed, though, because she lets up on me. “So how serious are the two of you?”

I don’t pause before telling her, “We love each other, Penny. We are as serious as it gets.”

“Simon-!” She sighs and tries to continue in a softer voice. “I get that you felt like it had to be a secret, but how can I not feel left out? I should have gotten to be part of your happiness sooner.”

“Sorry.”

“Well, the main thing is you’re happy. You get a bit of a scold but I’m not going to keep pouting.” We hug.

Then Penny chuckles to herself. 

“What?” I ask, curious.

“Nothing… just that I thought Baz was going to be a dusty old gentleman bachelor for at least another decade.”

“Ha…not likely-! Baz is hot stuff,” I say emphatically, as she snorts. “I look forward to the day I can tell all the guys that he is officially off the market.” 

We share a laugh, and it feels good.

The waitress takes our order and we continue talking things through as we wait for our food. “If you love Baz and you’re sure about him and this relationship, Simon, I don’t think you need to keep on hiding it. There’s no reason, in this day and age. People aren’t going to hold it against you. But they might hold secrecy against you. Why not let your fans know right from the start?”

I raise my eyebrows. I’ve never thought of it that way. “Well, we’ve already kind of committed to keeping the secret till after the tour is done. But once it’s done, forget it. We’re not going to live our whole lives hiding the truth.”

“Your whole lives, huh? Sounds like a serious relationship, indeed.”

When I first entered the restaurant with her I had no plan to tell her about the engagement, but now I feel like I better come clean.

“I asked him to marry me and he said yes.”

“Simon. Another thing you should have told me immediately.” But she comes over to hug me again. I give her a bear hug. 

“From now on I’m telling you everything,” I say. “Will you be in the wedding?” 

“Of course!”

“As my ‘best man’?”

“How about as your best friend?”

Before we part ways that day she teasingly asks me if there is anything else I’ve been waiting to reveal… for example, have we adopted a child or are we moving to America or anything like that? I reassure her that no, now she knows “all the dirt”... but then I think about it, and add “Baz and I have been living together for months, at his place. I keep my place ‘for show’; I’m hardly ever there.”

“Christ, Simon… it’s like you’ve been a double-agent spy.”

“Guess there’s more to me than you thought, huh?” I ask, grinning. But then I look at her more seriously. “Are we still, okay, Pen? Now that you know all this about me-? I don’t mean the engagement… I knew you’d be fine with me and Baz. I mean that I kept secrets. That I haven’t always been an open book to you… or myself.”

“Simon, you are my best friend. No matter what. There are probably several hundred things you don’t know about me, as well, but I still expect you to be my friend.”

“What kind of things, Penny?”

“I don’t know… nothing terribly big. But you get my point. Even good friends get to have boundaries… and their own time table. As long as they ‘fess up, eventually.”

“I like what you’re saying but I think you made that up, just for me. To make me feel better.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes, Penny.” I give her a BIG hug.

And even though I just ate lunch, I feel about ten pounds lighter. Secrets have a way of weighing you down.

Baz:

This isn’t going to be anywhere near as easy as meeting Ebb was.

Last night we had dinner with Ebb, in the house Simon spent his last few years of high school in… his last foster home. Ebb is a kind-hearted middle-aged lady who never married but acted as “mother” to many kids over the years, including a troubled and delinquent young Simon. She gave him a chance and some much-needed stability. And, of course, when she took him in she gave him the breathing room he needed to get comfortable with his own big heart, something I can’t thank her enough for. He could have ended up repressed and bitter, but he’s not that at all. 

She let us know how happy she was for both of us, and gave me a big hug immediately. Then she asked me a bunch of questions about myself, which surprisingly I didn’t mind answering at all… they were kind questions. When we left Ebb’s later that night, especially since it came at the tail-end of a day when he had talked to Penny, too, Simon was walking on air. 

If I ever had any doubts about whether he seriously wanted to marry me, the past 24 hours put all that to rest.

But now we’re on our way to meet MY family. And I don’t anticipate a walk in the park.

I try to warn Simon on the way over that they won’t make it easy. That my dad will have a cold aloof manner about him and ask questions that make Simon feel like there are no good answers. And that my siblings will be annoying, and… that Fiona will be Fiona. She’ll say something humiliating, for sure.

“Baz, they can give me their worst. It’s worth it, because I have you. I’m going to make them love me.”

I know that’s not going to happen in one night, so I’m a nervous wreck the whole drive over. I just hope nobody says anything that devastates Simon too much. I hope I keep my cool. I hope I sense the exact moment when one of them decides to say their most awful thing and I nip it in the bud first with a withering look.

We hold hands for most of the drive, so that helps. I’m in love with Simon but this life we’ve been living feels like it exists in a whole other universe beyond the one my family lives in. If we’re ever going to get married we need to somehow combine those two worlds, but there has to be a (big) collision first. As I think about that collision with dread, Simon gives my hand a squeeze. “We got this.”

So now we’re pulling up the driveway. The house is very large… it’s a whole estate, really. There are stone steps leading up to the front door, which is actually a set of doors that open stylishly into a formal entrance. The family home is old but Daphne has personalized it in many ways with stylish new additions which father has allowed — a testament to his love for her, if ever there was one.

Daphne must have seen us pull up; she greets us at the door. “Basilton,” she says, drawing me into an embrace before turning to Simon. She reaches her hand out and Simon takes it. “You must be Simon.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for inviting me for dinner.”

“Well of course; we’re very excited to meet Baz’s new special friend. Won’t you come in?”

So that’s what we’re calling Simon. My “special friend.” That’s not a very good start if even Daphne can’t come out and say it… I told her and Father very specifically over the phone that Simon was my boyfriend. Sigh.

Father, Delia, and Morticia are waiting in the foyer, at a bit of a distance. I don’t see her at first, but there’s Fiona, leaning against a door frame, nursing a cocktail and smirking, somewhat.

Here we go.

Simon:

I’ve never had such a fancy meal in my life. I knew Baz was rich but meeting his family has been a huge wake-up call: he’s filthy rich. He was so busy worrying about their personalities and them being mean to me… I wish he’d warned me what to do if there is more than one fork by my plate. Because I have no clue.

I decide to treat the evening like a performance… I am going to act like I know what I’m doing and charm the pants off this “crowd”. I do my best to politely answer their questions and make my shit life sound respectable (without outright lying about anything). 

Daphne is an angel. She keeps the conversation going and helps smooth the bumps out of any awkwardness introduced by the rest of us. Baz’s dad, of course, immediately starts grilling me about my family, job, and plans for the future. Some of his questions are very detailed, and he mostly keeps a poker face when I answer, but sometimes I see his eyes bulge a little, and sometimes he coughs. At one point he says, very emphatically, “Basilton’s future lies with Pitch Publishing. A very respectable and stable future that will take place in the London area.”

Baz is pretty quiet most of the evening, although he does respond to that comment with a dry, “You certainly have a clear view of my future, Father. Are you psychic, then?”

Lots of raised eyebrows, a snort from Mordelia, tittering from Fiona, and a flurry of distractive comments from Daphne, after that one.

Fiona’s most memorable comment of the evening definitely was, “So are you lovers, then?”

NO ONE answered that question. There was a lot of coughing around the table and glances at the children while a pleased-with-herself Fiona laughed and said loudly, “Of course, I’m kidding.”

At the end of the evening, as Baz drove us out of the driveway and back toward our flat, there was mostly just this feeling of incredible relief: “There. That’s done.” And maybe some hysterical laughter, followed by an emphatic desire to get us somewhere to begin drinking alcohol immediately.

Baz:

We stop at a pub on the way home.

“That was bloody brilliant, Simon.”

“What?”

“Everything that just happened. You met my family… you faced them. You answered their questions and were nice to them… and the world didn’t explode. We got through it and now we’re still together and we’re having a bloody drink.”

“Of course that’s what happened, Baz. I love you.”

“It’s such a relief. It’s a miracle.”

“Baz, let’s go back to our place.”

Music to my ears.

In an hour, we’re home and have kicked off our shoes. We’re on the couch after taking a shower, and Simon is kissing me. It’s so good… it’s always good. We’re kissing but I can’t stop touching his face, because he’s so precious to me.

I feel strange. My heart feels wide open, and I pull away long enough to say, “Simon, whatever happens… promise me we’ll always be together.”

“We will always be together, Baz.”

“I mean no matter what happens.”

“What do you imagine is going to happen?”

“Well, you could meet someone else… make a mistake. When you’re on the road. That’s no reason to break up with me, Simon. I’ll forgive you.”

He inhales sharply. “Don’t say that, Baz. Don’t even think it. That is never going to happen.”

“I don’t think it will. I’m just saying IF it does, don’t give up on us. Give me a chance to forgive you. Because I will.”

“Baz,” he says, and his face is getting flushed… he’s angry. “Don’t go offering me something like that. Number one it hurts me that a thought like that would even cross your mind. And number two, you need to expect more of me, more for yourself. You’re not the kind of guy who should ever be in a position to forgive your fiance for something like that. You deserve to be treated like a goddamn king.”

“I can’t help thinking about terrible things that could happen. I’m afraid for you to go.”

“If you can get away from the book shop…”

“... I know I can,” I say.

“Then you come see me, after Agatha’s gone. Stay with me, travel with me for as long as you want.”

“What will the guys think?”

“I don’t care. It’ll be fine. Baz, I don’t want you to have crazy thoughts about things going wrong with us. I want you to be with me so you see everything is fine.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess over this. I trust you, Simon… I just don’t trust… life. How can my life be this good? When is life going to kick me in the teeth and take you away from me?”

“Baz, no. Don’t say that; don’t even think it. Come here.”

I sit closer to Simon, and he takes my hands. He looks down at them and raises them up to his lips, kissing the palm of one and then the other. Soft, lingering kisses. Then he looks up and locks eyes with me. His head is tilted a little to the side and his eyes are intense… crackling with energy. 

“I think we need to go to bed for this conversation.”

I feel soft and wrecked, like a wet noodle. This past week has been an emotional roller coaster for both of us. The engagement, revealing ourselves to friends, meeting the families… 

And now my carefully cultivated dignity falling apart. I just offered to forgive Simon, should he ever cheat on me. Am I made of mush? Where’s my self-esteem? I’ve just laid myself open to him, bare and vulnerable. What must he think of me? 

Still holding my hands, he gets up and gives me a gentle tug up. He leads me over to the bed. 

“Come here, Baz. Lay on my arm.”

I do; I sink under the covers beside him and lay my head on his shoulder. He puts his arms around me and holds me close, kissing my head. We lay like that awhile as he strokes my hair and I focus on breathing, on calming down. Every time I breathe out I try to push the bad thoughts away. I try to focus instead on the nice way he’s touching me.

“Feeling better, yet?” he asks, after a few minutes. 

“Yes.”

“Okay; good. Now let’s look at each other.”

I move off his shoulder and away a little bit. I’m actually afraid to look at him, at first… what if he’s annoyed? But when I finally do meet his eyes, he’s not annoyed… he’s soft. He’s got the faintest hint of a smile around his lips and his eyes are looking at me as if I’m golden.

“Baz, do I look like the kind of guy who isn’t going to get a happy ending?”

“No…”

“Well, neither do you. We’re both going to get our happy endings, Baz, because they’re the same. We end up with each other… forever. We get married and we have our jobs and we travel together, have a house. We have breakfast and dinners out and sometimes we cook for each other. I do something dumb every now and then and you think I’m impossible. But I never cheat on you, Baz. That never happens.”

“Simon… I believe you. But… can you indulge me for awhile? Can I tell you my worst fear?”

He bites his lip a little and there’s a frown between his eyes, but he nods. “Right. Give it to me. Your worst fear.”

I exhale deeply and roll onto my back. I close my eyes. 

“How does your bisexuality fit into all this, Simon? Are you going to need women in your life too, eventually? I can’t ever be a woman for you. What do I do when the time comes and I’m not enough, not all you need?”

“That’s it? That’s your worst?” I turn and look at him. He’s smiling.

“Yes…” I say, in a slow drawl. As far as I’m concerned, this is a legitimate concern.

“Baz, I can answer that easily. Bisexuality doesn’t mean I’m more prone to cheat. Does a straight woman have to worry about her straight husband cheating on her with other women?”

I raise an eyebrow at that. I don’t think cheating is as uncommon as Simon thinks.

He seems to catch how silly that sounds and clarifies. “Whether a person cheats or not depends on their character, their honesty, what’s going on in their relationship… a million different things. It’s not all tied up in their sexuality. I wouldn’t be attempting this kind of relationship with you… I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me… if I didn’t feel like I could give you all of the things that make a marriage real.” He pauses. “I guess what I need to know, Baz, is… are you ready to be with me in that way? Believe me in that way?”

I’m looking at him intensely now; I can’t look away. 

What do I see? I see honesty. I see a man whose face is an open book to me. His blue eyes love me, his lips are trembling, waiting to kiss me… he’s waiting breathlessly for my answer. I hold his happiness in my hands. 

All I need to do is hold it together and allow myself this bit of happiness with him. Just let the good stuff happen… believe that I deserve it.

“I’m ready, Simon.”

With those words, he surges toward me so his lips can press onto mine. He kisses me with a firm but gentle pressure, as if this is the kiss that seals the deal and now the “happy ever after” begins. His hands go up to my face and cradle my jawline softly. He breaks away only to look at me and whisper, “I love you, Baz.” Then he starts kissing my cheek, hairline, temple, and neck.

Up to now I’ve been an emotional limp biscuit. But everything Simon says to me now, everything he’s doing, brings me back to life. Awakens me. I’m starting to stir… and harden.

Now my hand is moving along his arm, up his bicep to his broad shoulder. 

Simon:

I want him… I always want Baz. But I feel like I have some emotional repair work to do on him, first. This secrecy has been harder for him than I realized… it fed all kinds of insecurities. It was hard on Penny and it’s been even harder on Baz. I’m lucky I didn’t lose him.

I’m going to spoil him tonight… treat him like the best thing in the world. Leave him with no doubt that I love him and only him.

Baz:

I press myself up into him because I need to get as close as possible. He’s hard against me already. That’s reassuring… he’s always turned on by me and ready for me in so little time. It makes me feel like the answer to his question.

I try to reach a hand down to his hardness but Simon stops me… he has his own ideas. He intercepts my hand with his own and kisses it. He turns it, palm up, to kiss the pulse of my wrist, then his lips trail further down my arm to my chest. He slowly moves lower with his gentle attention. I know what he means to do, but he’s giving me all the time in the world to decide if this is right, if this is what I want, because he’s going so slow and soft. I’m glad there’s no rush or urgency right now; all the emotional exhaustion I’m still feeling has me wanting the familiar and comforting. And Simon is that for me, right now. He’s like a safe place, like a home.

I think about how he mentioned us having a home together someday. And I realize that we already have that, in the most important sense, because wherever he is, THAT is my home.

Simon's mouth has almost reached my hardness, and I think I know what he’s going to do. 

But then he doesn’t do it. He stays kissing my stomach and touching my hips in an almost soothing way, and it feels amazing. He’s calming down all my nerves with his hands and his lips. Somehow I am relaxed and excited at the same time… how does he do that-? When bad thoughts have completely left my head and my attention is totally focused on his kisses and the gentle massages he’s giving my lower body, only then does he take hold of my thighs and spread my legs wide. 

I can’t call THAT relaxing, since I’m pretty sure he’s doing that so he can lick me soon. It’s exciting as hell… my heart starts to beat faster in anticipation of it.

Once my thighs open, the energy between us changes. What started out as gentle and therapeutic is now hot and tantalizing. 

Simon:

We rarely go it slow like this. Usually there’s too much stress or work, or we’re tired. And so we settle for a quick solution to our desire, whatever’s fast and efficient for the both of us. 

Not tonight, though… tonight Baz is getting the 5 star treatment. I’m not going to let him touch me “there” till he’s been satisfied. He’s so sexy to me, especially tonight in his vulnerable state… I don’t want to get carried away or motivated too much by my own desire. I want to focus on him.

Baz:

Simon trails a few kisses right onto me, and I shudder just from that because it’s so good. And my heart bursts for him because he’s being so soft with me, not expecting anything in return. I feel the care in his lips and fingertips: he wants to reassure me. And he wants me to accept his love. I do; I lay there open to him, legs and heart. All I can think is: Simon.

He licks me. First slowly, up the length of me, then nimbly, around the head. Down and up from different angles, with hot breath and a slick wet sound, before taking me all the way into his mouth. “Oh… Simon… oh…” I’m looking at him, but then I see how hot all this is and my eyes roll back up into my head and shut tightly… I can’t help but buck up toward him with my hips. 

“Sorry… sorry”, followed by “do not stop” and other gibberish.

Simon:

Every time I think I know Baz completely, he reveals himself in a whole new way: there’s always something else. Something else to know or love about him. He’s so into whatever we do in bed… so receptive to me, so ready to show me his feelings and honest responses. How could I ever ask him to be secretive or hold back? He was meant to give himself to me and claim me as his own.

I’ve given him head plenty of times. But I haven’t spent much time on his rim… not the way he has for me. 

He’s getting both tonight.

Baz:

The things he can do with his tongue-! Oh. He’s licking my rim right now, and every flick of his tongue and caress of his hands feels as if he’s taking me apart and putting me together, all at once.

I’m gasping and my whole body is flooding with building waves of pleasure. I’m desperate for him to go on because it feels so good... it’s almost more than I can stand. And yet, I can stand it because I know what “the end” will be… Simon never leaves me high and dry. He won’t quit until I am satisfied.

He will give me whatever I want, and he will want it as much as me, the moment I ask for it. 

Simon:

I love Baz. When he’s all caught up in feeling like this, hair mussed, face flushed, long lean body taut and straining… he is absolutely gorgeous. It’s all I can do not to tumble forward with him into orgasm.

That will come soon enough. Baz will make short work of me, as soon as I let him. But for now it’s all about him.

Baz:

The thoughts in my head are wild. Simon really knows what to do with his mouth and tongue... is that because he’s a singer? His technique is heavenly and I’m moaning loudly. I am increasingly desperate for him and his tongue…

I let whatever’s left of my composure slip away. I don’t need it… I don’t have to hide anything, any feelings, when I’m in bed with Simon. That’s something I haven’t tried to do since the first couple of times we had sex. I can’t pretend to be someone else, the kind of person who doesn’t care or feel deeply when I’m with Simon… he brings all my feelings out and I love him for it… 

I realize I’m not afraid anymore for him opening me up like this. I finally know where we stand and I’m happy.

Simon:

No one is like Baz. No one. He’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine.

Baz:

Simon’s hands circle around my thighs while his tongue works me. He likes this intimacy between us, too... I hear him panting through his exertions with shuddered breaths. And the thought of him enjoying this, too, is a welcome sensory overload for my heart and mind. I always want to please Simon.

”Simon… my Simon…” I can’t stop gasping his name. It’s become my personal mantra, my prayer for a happy life and a better future… with him… always with him…

His tongue is getting more access to me and it’s making me weak and hard in a way that makes me think I might achieve my satisfaction without him doing anything else. Simon is that good with his tongue. He keeps trailing kisses too, in between his probing. It feels amazing to know that he wants me this much, to feel his love to all of me, unconditionally…

I’m getting close to the sweet pleasure of release and Simon seems to be very attuned with me (which makes my heart swell with gratitude and love), because he returns me to his mouth and keeps swallowing me rhythmically until I reach the peak of my orgasm. 

He’s panting now and I let myself believe he’s enjoying this because it’s me. I’m a bloke and he still enjoys me this much… Simon makes me feel as though nothing is missing for him and that I’m not only enough but exactly who he wants…

Simon:

When Baz breaks through to orgasm, I’m happy. We want the same things in bed, and his pleasure is mine. It sounds like such a basic thing, but I know not everyone has it.

We are so lucky to have each other.

Baz:

I can’t get the thought of him being a singer out of my head… it’s so heavenly. It’s like he’s conducting music out of me. Wave after wave of pleasure.

My whole body shudders in aftershocks from this experience, as I feel Simon swallowing and tasting me. He wants it all. Something inside me always feels accepted and adored when he does that.

Simon doesn’t let go right away, either. He lets me land within my body and my feelings, with his mouth around me as if that’s what’s important for him — my pleasure and my happiness. 

Simon:

I come back up to Baz’s face, after spending a delicious long time between his legs. But there are tears in his eyes.

”What’s wrong, love?” I ask, my heart catching in my throat. Was this too much, not what he wanted?

”I’m just happy,” Baz answers. “Because you want me the way I am and because we get to have this — us.” A few sobs escape his lips. 

I am so lucky to have such a passionate deep man. He’s making me deeper… I’m learning all the time. He shows me how much it’s possible to give and I become the same for him. So I wrap myself around him and kiss his mouth and tear-stained cheeks.

”I want you because of the way you are,” I tell him, and we kiss again. 

Baz:

I love it when Simon puts things into words for me. I know that doesn’t always come easy for him. He’s more of a touchy guy, but I need words. The things Simon is saying to me right now give me butterflies in my stomach, as if I’m a giddy teenager again.

I smile through my tears and nuzzle into him.  
”We get to have a life — together,” I whisper to him but I’m not sure if he can hear me.

He does. Simon squeezes me and whispers back, “Yes, love. We get to have a life — together.”

And I believe him. Because it’s him and because everything about him is true right now, from the way he talked to Penny to the way he made love to me tonight...

Everything is real… our future is real.


	19. The Tour Begins...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz and Simon spend a passionate last night together before Simon has to leave on the tour with his band. Agatha whisks Simon, Dev, and Harvey away to their first destination. Simon has some very revealing conversations with Harvey and Agatha.

Chapter 19 

Simon:

All of a sudden, it’s the night before we leave. Agatha has taken charge, so Harvey, Dev and I are stuck at dinner (with her) going over last-minute travel plans until well after nine. It’s exciting that the tour is starting, of course, but I’m feeling all this dread. The tour is good for my career… the chance of a lifetime. But it will take me away from Baz, and we have been together every night for almost four months. And I’m really feeling the separation anxiety for the first time. I can’t wait to go home and spend our last few hours together. I want to glom onto him and hold him every minute I can.

I tell myself there’s no need to feel frantic… he can join me in three weeks, we won’t even be apart that long. But there’s a part of me that fantasizes about just calling the whole thing off and staying home. What if the band could do that with no one mad at us and no harm done… we all just decide to say “eh” and stick with our day jobs. Sigh. Baz and I could spend the whole week in bed.

But of course it’s too late for that. We’ve cashed our checks, signed contracts, and this company has spent money on us. Fans have already bought advance tickets… we’re locked in. And that’s good… I’m a singer and a songwriter. Guys like me dream about getting a chance like this — a tour and a record deal. This is just stage fright, a panic thing. I need to push the panic down and do what I promised… what I wanted.

But: Baz. In a few short months we went from crushes to lovers… to engaged. And he’s everything to me. But this last week has been busy and he’s been distant and quiet, like there’s something wrong, like he’s already fading into the background. I know he’s dealing with fears and insecurities of his own, and over and over again I’ve reassured him that everything’s fine. But now I’m feeling the disquiet myself.

It’s weird — Baz has known this was going to suck for a while now, while I’ve been looking at that worry like it’s his personal problem, but now I get it… missing him is going to be a real thing. Up till now the tour was an abstraction, off into the future. But now it’s here and there’s no going back.

So with this anxious state of mind, I come back to the apartment. I want to go straight for him and take his hand, so we can make a beeline to the bed, but he’s puttering around the kitchen, making scones, of all things. “I want to give you something to take along. A little treat from home,” he says. Fucking adorable bastard. But of course he doesn’t know how to make scones and when he’s done the kitchen’s a mess and the scones are flat and hard. Baz looks like he’s going to cry, like he failed me.

“Never mind that, darling. It’s okay. I’m in no danger of starving, right? Let’s go to bed.”

“Well, it was a silly idea, anyway. Wait till Martha sees what I’ve done to the kitchen.” 

“It was a sweet idea. What am I going to do without you looking after me these next few weeks?”

“Agatha will look after you, I suppose.”

“That is NOT the same at all. She’s shit for taking care of me. Doesn’t know me at all. And the worst thing is she’s 100% not you.”

“Good answer, Snow. Stick with that attitude the next three weeks and we’ll be fine.”

We get ready for bed and scoot under the covers. My luggage stands, packed and lonely, by the door. I pull Baz into me and hold him close, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He smells so great. 

“Baz, I really, really don’t want to leave you.”

He sighs. “I know, Snow. But everybody’s counting on you, now. And I’ll be fine, here. Your being away will give me a chance to catch up on things I’ve been distracted from.”

“I guess I should be happy you’re thinking about the good things that will happen when I’m away.”

“Well, you don’t want me to be all sad and slouching around, do you?”

“No, but…”

“Actually,” he says, and I can hear mischief in his voice, “this will be a great opportunity to get reacquainted with old friends. Especially the attractive old friends. They have been sorely neglected, of late.”

“Baz-!”

“I think I should also spend the next three weeks really getting in touch with my body… maybe walking around the flat nude? And stretching and posing a lot. When you’re not here.”

“Bastard.”

At that I roll over the top of him and prop myself up a little, so I can look down at his face — his beautiful face. I take it in, all the familiar planes and angles. That little bump on the edge of his nose, the arch of his eyebrows, the sweep of his hair down the two sides of his widow’s peak. His eyes that know me and adore me. I lean down to kiss him and he answers me, as always, with warm lips. And just like that we slide into the not-talking part of the evening… the best part. 

The part we live for.

I run a hand through his long dark hair. I love his hair. It’s so shiny and soft and smells just like him. It’s sexy, too— sometimes he hides his eyes behind a wave of bangs and I have to push it out of the way to see what he’s up to. I love that I get to do that… chase down his eyes, make him look at me. I love that I get to lay my hands on him and nuzzle up against his neck with my nose, like I’m doing now. And he likes it… he answers every touch I give him by moving closer, sighing with pleasure, or reaching for me with his sensitive artist’s hands. 

I’m running the back side of my fingers gently down his face, feeling the hint of tomorrow’s whiskers. Touching his mouth. I kiss his lips and marvel at how varied our kisses have become… We slide our lips against one another’s, sometimes slow and sweet, sometimes fast and hard. Baz makes me work for his tongue. I only get it when he’s aroused, and then, watch out— he’s wicked.

I think back to that first night we kissed, when Baz was drunk and pulled me into that alley. He pushed me up against the brick wall and pressed his body against mine… I had to look up in order to see his eyes. Even though he was a tall, dark, dangerous man I hardly knew, I kissed him.

And that meant something, because that was the first guy I really kissed. When I was with Harvey, we didn’t kiss. We basically just masturbated each other, which is an intimate thing, too, but somehow kissing would have been… too much. The kind of thing people with romantic feelings do, or so I thought...

I can’t imagine being with Baz and NOT kissing him. But I’m older now, more comfortable with myself and was romantically attracted to Baz from the very beginning. Things developed differently with Harvey, much to everyone’s satisfaction.

But why am I kissing Baz and thinking about Robin Harvey? Luckily Baz isn’t a mind reader. I return my attention to my beautiful, sexy man, who I love more than anyone, but now I have a Harvey-inspired idea in my head: what would Baz think if I got myself off at the same time as I wanked him? Gripping us both with the same hand, pumping our slick cocks together? Would he let me do that? Harvey and I did that kind of thing and it was right nice. I can’t think how heavenly it would be with BAZ.

I think he’ll do it. If I ask him right. 

“Baz, baby, can we try something?”

He’s kissing my shoulder, running a hand down my chest to my waist. “Uh oh. That’s your excited voice.”

“We could do it laying down, but I’d rather sit up to do it. So I can see you better,” I say, and I know I’m blushing. 

Baz’s eyes widen as I continue, but he’s already starting to sit up. “We’ll have to kneel. And face each other,” I say, and I can hardly believe myself. Luckily, when I’m bossy in bed, Baz is obedient (I think I get away with stuff like that because I don’t try it very often).

“Snow, what are you cooking up in that brain of yours?”

“Pass the lube, Baz. You’re going to like this.”

We might be both desperate for an orgasm at this point but I still want to go slow. I want to make sure he’s enjoying everything. I want to spend the next three weeks wanking to the memories of this night with Baz — our cocks together in my hand. 

I start by squeezing a hefty amount of lube onto my hand and scoot closer to Baz. That’s when I take his cock and lube it slowly, paying attention to every part of him, especially the head. I hear Baz’s breath catching and rub my thumb gently a few more times around his tip. 

But before I get to my own cock I hear Baz say, ”Let me, love.”

He takes my hand with his own and applies lube all over my cock, squeezing just the way I like it…

Baz:

If Simon thinks that I’m going to let him have all the fun the night before he leaves me for three weeks, he’s sorely mistaken. My hunger for him won't lessen over the course of a three week separation— it will only get worse. I need these good memories. And despite everything I’m still a bit worried and nervous. I want Simon to remember me, to have something to think about through the lonely nights at the motel…

I’m working him up into quite a frenzy, using both his hand and mine.

”Baz… Fuck…”

I kiss Simon’s jaw and keep going down to his neck, never letting go of his cock.

Simon:

What Baz is doing to my cock with his hand through mine is incredible. He’s usually not this dominant with me, but I like it. I want him to keep wanking my cock with our hands and I want to wank his too.

It was the right idea to do this upright and facing each other. The light’s off but our eyes are adjusted to the dark and I can see him perfectly. And he IS that… perfect. Long lean abs and smooth pale skin that glows at me in the darkness. His cock is flushed and darker, and he has the bangs from one side of his head tucked behind his ear… the fringe on the other side falls down in front of his face. He’s looking down at what he’s doing, but every now and then he looks up at my face. It always turns him on to see me, too. He’ll reach forward and gently tug at my lower lip with his teeth, run a hand down my chest (maybe over a nipple), or let out a low growl. Seeing him like this is so fucking hot… I’m moaning his name. I can’t help it.

I lean forward and kiss his lush full lips. While I’m doing that I reach for his cock, which catches Baz by surprise. As I trace my fingers around the tender spot, he almost hisses at me — from surprise and pleasure. (I know all his hisses by now.)

We work on each other, me with one hand on Baz’s cock, and our two hands on mine. ”Oh… so good…” Baz is gasping through kisses. ”Simon… love…”

Still, I want our cocks to be touching, I want to feel that friction too. I want us in this moment to share everything…

I adjust so that our cocks are touching side to side and move Baz’s hand together with my own on us both. 

”So much... better…” I whisper in his mouth through shuddered breaths.

I get in return a soft and frantic, ”Oh...yeah…” 

Baz:

Simon is quite the inventor in the bedroom. You’d never think that, from looking at him — boyish, almost shy… He’s a demon in disguise, with a wicked and erotic mind…

The feeling of us together, our bodies, our cocks and our hands— I’m losing myself in this, in Simon. I forget the insecurities and the worries and there’s nothing but this moment of ecstasy and happiness. I’ll spend the next three weeks pleasuring myself to this memory, and by the way Simon is looking — so will he. He’s gasping my name and my praises.

”Baz… you’re so hot…so hot…”

But when he says, “My beautiful fiancé...” I almost cry from happiness. I kiss Simon and don’t stop until I’m out of breath, like a teenager…

Simon whispers again, “My fiancé…”

Oh, he knows exactly what to say and how to seduce me, heart and cock...

Simon:

I love the feeling of Baz’s cock against mine. We fit like a hand to a glove, like two puzzle pieces — effortless and natural…

Baz keeps gasping my name and I’m getting closer to exploding all over us. I think he is too; the kisses are getting sloppier and his breathing more abrupt. 

As a singer I’m happy to say that I can hold my breath a bit better than Baz can. I release his lips so he can get some air and settle instead on his neck, kissing it and moaning softly into his ear. Then I blow a few puffs of air and Baz shivers from that, (he likes that a lot.) It turns him on like crazy. I want him to come hard.

A few broken noises are slipping from his sweets lips before he all but trembles against me — coming with a soft “Simon…” 

I’m not far behind, I groan “love…” and spill over the both of us, his belly not excluded. My aim seems to have been way off. 

As we come back from our high I trace my finger on his stomach. 

“That’s what comes from wanking with such a gorgeous fiancé — it’s impossible to aim right, ” I say with a laugh.

Baz chuckles, “Sorry for the inconvenience, love.” Then he kisses me, spreading the mess more. 

“Oh, I might forgive you, this time.”

“So generous.” He leans his forehead against mine a moment. “That was really something.”

“You going to remember me when I’m gone?”

“Yes, if not outright obsess over you.” He kisses the tip of my nose and then cups my cheeks with his hands, leaning forward to kiss me. 

“How about a shower?”

We get up and walk toward the bathroom. 

“What time is Agatha picking you up?”

“Seven. But I should probably get up at 5:30 because she’s picking me up at MY flat. Apparently she’s under the impression I live THERE.”

“Whose fault is that, Simon?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I grab Baz’s hand and give it a squeeze. “I am going to be thinking about what we just did for a long time, Baz. It was so fucking hot. I just hope I manage to sing on this tour and not spend all my time wanking to the memory of you… naked and hard.”

“Yeah, singing would be good, Simon.”

We shower quickly, so we can return to the comfort of bed. Baz finishes before me and let’s me have the shower to myself, as I’ve decided to go ahead and wash my hair, too. I use the time to myself to think. As I finish and dry off (Baz is already down the hall), I feel tears welling up behind my eyes.

“Baz…” I call.

”Yes, love?”

“I hate this, being away from you,” I admit. Baz comes back over and wraps his arms around me. For a moment I feel guilty asking him to comfort me, when he’s just as sad as me.

“Me too, Simon. But it’s only three weeks, I’ll see you very soon.” Baz kisses my forehead. I know he’s only keeping high spirits for my benefit because I can see his eyes shine with unshed tears. 

Baz always puts me first. I want to do the same. I don’t want to hide us, I want to give him everything he deserves, starting with my love.  
I kiss him deep and with feeling, trying to convey everything I can’t say at the moment, (I don’t want to make promises I might not be able to back up yet.)

Baz:

Seeing Simon this way — vulnerable just as I am makes me think that he’s just as nervous as me. Not that I want him to be… of course not. But the insecure part of me is somehow appeased now… Simon will miss me. He won’t be looking for his next conquest while on the tour… I know that deep inside, now.

When he kisses me, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and feel my tears coming to the surface. Before I even know it — we’re both crying through the kiss…  
”It’s going to be alright, love,” I say, but then (just to be contrary to my own words) I start sobbing.

Simon:

“I want you to come with me, ” I plead with Baz, though we both know that it’s not him who’s prevented that, it’s me.

“I know, love. I’ll come as soon as possible, as soon as my visit won’t interfere with your career,” Baz reassures me. 

“As soon as Agatha leaves,” I say, because she’s the one who can tattle on me to her uncle and ruin everything the guys and I have worked for.

“Yes. You call and I’ll come right away,” Baz says reassuringly. 

“Promise?”

“Of course, love. In three weeks I’m going to haunt your doorstep like a crazy stalker,” Baz says, and that makes us both laugh, for a little while…

“It feels like forever,” I eventually admit and Baz holds me closer to him in lieu of a response.

Baz:

I’m trying to stay strong for Simon, but it’s not easy. What a waste, to spend our last night together crying… no.

Instead, I find my way to Simon’s lips and kiss him for as long as I can before pulling away breathless. 

I want us share tender moments, touch, and talk for as long as we can. 

Simon:

Laying in bed, snuggled into Baz, I whisper, “I love you so much.”

He answers, “Simon, darling. Only the gods know how much I love you.” 

And I feel perfect happiness. 

He will come to me on the tour and we will be together very soon. I close my eyes, breathe out, and let myself feel how all is well. We fall asleep to the rise and fall of our chests as we nestle in each other’s arms.

**************

Agatha:

I’m glad I’m the one driving the boys to their first gig. Simon is a terrible morning person. When we pick him up at his apartment, he looks tired and dazed. He piles into the van and doesn’t say much. I wait for him to fall asleep instantly in the front seat, next to me, but instead he leans his head against the window and stares bleakly at the passing trees and houses through half-lowered eyelids. Eventually he falls back to sleep.

Definitely not a morning person.

It’s still dark outside. I love driving at the crack of dawn. I have a cup of coffee (French vanilla cappuccino) and I’m driving this carload of good-looking guys to their first big show. I did that for them… I made that happen. Someday Simon will appreciate it properly.

I look at him, sleeping with his jacket rumpled up under his head like a pillow, snoring lightly, mouth open. He has the nicest sloping nose and he looks so young right now… like he’s barely had time to be away from his mother. I’ll have to take care of him, then (the thought makes me smile). I glance up at the mirror and see Robin on his phone (is he playing a game or texting?) and Dev wearing headphones, eyes shut. 

My boys :). 

Simon:

Every day it’s a new place and a new crowd, but the same basic set of songs. We start to get into a routine, and it helps we’ve had so much practice with regular gigs, playing every week at the coffee shop. That on top of years spent practicing in Harvey’s garage have us sounding pretty good and familiar with a variety of playing conditions.

The crowds love us. They look a lot like us, too — young and working class. I think they like what we sing about, and that we talk like regular blokes on stage. Once I’m up there, I’m not moping anymore. I’m back to life, talking and singing and smiling to the crowd. Dev and Harvey and I have an easy banter.

It’s when we’re done and I’m alone that the homesickness sneaks back. The first few days in motels were actually kind of interesting, if not fun… different food and then maybe a cocktail or two, knowing that I can sleep the next day on the way to whatever town we play next (the guys are starting to give me shit about never taking a turn driving). Agatha is kind of like our bossy kid sister, though she can be funny, too, and is starting to learn how to grin. She’s wearing her hair piled high up on her head in a messy bun and letting her guard down a little. I like her that way.

Agatha’s alright. She actually seems to be taking her job as our stage manager seriously. She makes sure we’re there when she talks to the venue owners, so we see how it’s done. And so far there haven’t been any unpleasant surprises; it’s all been pretty much as expected.

But it’s surprising how fast it gets old. After about a week I’m having sentimental thoughts about not just Baz but the comforts of Baz’s flat… he’s got a really nice bed and apparently now I’m spoiled for it. I judge every inn we hole up in by comparing it with our set-up at Baz’s — the good sheets, posh mattress, and nice-smelling duvet. The inns and motels of Kent have nothing near as nice.

But it hasn’t been as lonely as I thought. When I’m alone in my room, wherever that is, I can text Baz. And he generally comes up with a quick (snarky) answer. I beg him for photos of himself and he’ll send me close-ups of his nose or his shoes. One time he sent me a picture of him from his art site, one where he has the Maleficent horns sprouting out of his head and looks like a sour-faced demon. That caught me by surprise and was actually right hilarious.

He teases me but he never says goodbye without letting me say something soft and naughty (or tender) to him. I think he kind of lives for that, the git. I certainly do. 

So I should be happy as hell. I should be having the time of my life with the guys. But I’m not really spending a lot of time with them… and Dev and Harvey start to notice. Harvey actually says something about it to me, the second week we’re out. 

“Agatha says you’re not feeling the best?”

“She’s heard me sniffle a few times and I told her I had a cold. I’m alright, though. Just don’t want to get stuck taking her out sight-seeing and what-not.”

“Are you avoiding us, too?”

“No… don’t mean to. Guess I’m just getting used to things and like relaxing with my phone in my room.”

“Uh huh. Well, why don’t you stay up tonight and hang out with us at the bar? We could play darts or go for a walk on the boardwalk.”

“Nah. I’m feeling kind of tired. Think I’ll call it a night.”

“Simon. You can’t be tired every night. What’s going on with you?”

“Dunno. Maybe I am coming down with something.”

“I think that’s bullshit, Simon. What’s wrong? Who are you on your phone with when you’re in your room?”

I’m kind of surprised Harvey is being so direct with all this. It’s not really like him. But I decide I might as well tell him.

“I just started a new relationship, that’s all. With a really cool guy. And I miss… him.”

Harvey smiles. “Finally. Some truth. It’s Baz, isn’t it?”

“How-? What makes you say ‘Baz’?”

“It’s not hard to see, if you know what to look for. And I remember what it was like, to be on the receiving end of your attention.”

I grin. 

“Might be it’s Baz.”

“You must like him a lot to be texting him every night.”

“Yeah; I do. I really wish he was here. But I figured I better keep him away while Agatha’s around.”

Harvey frowns. “Why’s that?”

“Well, you know. The bad publicity of me being with a bloke.”

Harvey looks at me like he suddenly understands, and shakes his head. “Nah. You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Hide yourself. Hide Baz. The band doesn’t need you to do that. You be with whoever you want to be with, Simon.”

“What if Agatha gets mad? Or the record company?”

“Well piss on them, if they do. We’re not corporate slaves, are we?”

“No, but what about the fans? What if they don’t like it?”

“Piss on them, too.”

I laugh. “Harvey.”

“You’re wrong on that anyway, Simon. Fans aren’t going to care. This isn’t 1950.”

“So I could be public with Baz and you wouldn’t even care? What about Dev?”

“Let’s ask him.” He picks up his phone and texts Dev. In less than two minutes Dev is at the door. 

“Dev, do you care if Simon has a boyfriend?” Harvey asks.

“Not really. No.”

“Well, there you go, Simon. Now call your posh gent and tell him he can come follow along with us any time he wants.”

I’m on my way back to my room when my phone buzzes… it’s Agatha. “Stop by my room tonight ASAP. Just you.” So I change direction and take a left down the hall where her room is. I tap lightly on the door. She opens it.

“That was fast!” she says, laughing.

“I was right nearby, and it sounded urgent. What’s up?”

She smiles. “Come in, Simon.”

I go inside, but there’s nowhere to sit but the bed, so I remain standing. She sits down on the edge of the mattress, patting the space beside her, lightly. “Sit.” 

So I do, but it feels weird. What’s this about?

“Simon,” she says, “you know there’s a clause in your contract stating that you are to maintain your current public image by remaining apparently single during the tour…”

“Yes?” I say. I’m not sure what she’s getting at.

“Well, I don’t want you to feel bound by that. Because I know from my uncle it is very loosely interpreted these days.”

I let myself start to smile. Coming on the tail-end of my conversation with Harvey, this feels like she has separately come to her own decision to let me know that if I’m pining away for someone in secrecy because I think it’s not allowed, to just stop — because it will be okay. Because I will be allowed to have Baz.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying…?” I begin.

She looks at me, and her eyes are sparkling. “Yes.”

I lean forward and give her a big hug. She hugs back, but then I feel her pressing her lips to the side of my head. I pull back just as she’s trying to kiss me on the mouth. I’m in shock. I break away from her and stand up. 

“Agatha?”

“Simon,” she says, “Don’t you understand? There’s no reason we can’t be together. If you want to kiss me, you can. If you want to be with me tonight in this motel room, you can.”

“Oh… OH. I think we were NOT understanding each other just now.” I have to get out of here. 

Her face looks like it’s crumbling. “What… what do you mean? What did you think I was talking about?”

I feel kind of sick to my stomach. “I thought you were talking about me and Baz. That it’s okay for me to be with him now publicly.”

She looks away while shaking her head and laughing, but there’s no humor in her laugh.

“Yeah, no. That’s not what I was talking about.”

“I’m sorry, Agatha. I didn’t know.” 

“Simon,” she says, grabbing my hand. “Are you in a relationship with Baz? Is it serious? Is there any chance for me? I like you. I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you, Agatha, but not that way. And yes, Baz and I are in a relationship. I thought that’s what you were getting at-- that you knew and that you were letting me know you were supportive.”

“You never even gave me a chance,” she says, peevishly. “You never even kissed me.”

“It’s too late for that, Agatha. It’s never going to happen.”

She’s still grasping my hand, and now she tugs on it. She tries to pull me down onto the bed beside her, but I stay standing. “You won’t know for sure how you feel if you don’t try… try kissing me.”

I can’t believe she’s saying this. I pull my hand away, but now she’s reclining back onto the bed. She’s letting her long blonde hair spill out around her and she’s looking up at me with brown eyes. Her arms are spread open like she’s offering herself to me, and I can’t help but notice she isn’t wearing a bra. Good lord.

I’m stumbling and stammering. I’m out the door. I leave her laying on the bed just like that, but now frustrated and bewildered.

I speed walk back to my room, locking the door behind me. What just happened and what does it mean??

Should I call Baz and tell him-? I have to call Baz. I call him every night, and if I don’t, he’ll KNOW. This is just what he was worried about.

I pick up my phone and text.

Si: Are you there?

Baz: Yes I am

Si: A thing just happened

Baz: What?

Si: Agatha hit on me

Baz: Call me right now.

So then we’re on the phone, and I’m crying with shock, telling him everything. If this leads to my losing Baz… I don’t know what I’ll do. But after I finish telling him all of it, Baz says firmly, “Simon, don’t cry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t want her, Baz. I never wanted her.”

“I know. I know that, now. That’s why this business with her doesn’t matter.”

“What if she screws up this tour for me?”

“Then she’ll be in deep shit, because SHE came on to YOU.”

“But who’s going to believe me?”

“Simon, you’re panicking, now. Wait and see what the day brings tomorrow. I know Agatha. She’s going to be embarrassed tomorrow. She’s not going to make a fool of herself any further.”

“You know why this happened, why everything’s been wrong? It’s because I haven’t been telling people the truth. Baz, I’m so done with that. I want you to come here, first chance you get. Meet me on the tour. Tell Penny you’re taking some time off and come be with me here if you’re able.”

“Well, in less than two weeks I was going to do just that.”

“It can’t wait any longer. Come now. The guys know… Baz. The guys KNOW. I talked to them earlier and they think it’s right silly to hide this, too. They told me to invite you here.”

“Wow, you told them? That’s great. Oh, Simon…”

“Please come, Baz.”

“I will. I am. Where will you be tomorrow?”

“Suffolk.”

“Text me all the details and I’ll meet you at the show.”

“Oh, Baz.”

“We’ll be together soon, love.”

“So we’re alright… there’s nothing wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I couldn’t love you more.”

“I’ve been a dumb git, Baz. When people love each other like you and I do, we have no business hiding it.”

“Well, I agree it’s really hard to hide it. And it leads to problems that wouldn’t be there if we were open with everyone from the start.”

“I see that now.”

We talk more, till I feel better, and then the next morning when I meet the guys in the lobby, we find that Agatha’s left the motel. She’s left us a note: “Hey guys — I got called back to London. You’ve had enough time to learn the ropes… you don’t need me hauling you around anymore. I left you the itinerary and all of my contacts for the tour. Just get yourself to wherever you need to be each day, check in with the manager, and do your show. Good luck — you’re going to do fine without me. And Simon, call your boyfriend. Sorry for the misunderstanding. Hope we can be friends… I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around. Love, Agatha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very grateful to my beta reader Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire for giving me that final nudge I needed into writing “smut with feelings.” Also for helping me stay more true to the characters and quality of their relationship.


	20. Goodbye, Closet; Hello, True Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon's tour starts and Agatha makes a play for Simon. Baz joins Simon on the tour and an adoring public finds out the truth about Baz and Simon. Colorful sexual shenanigans ensue.

Chapter 20: Goodbye, Closet; Hello, True Love

Simon:

I offer to drive us to the gig in county Suffolk… it’s the least I can do, seeing as I seem to have spooked Agatha away with my not-interested-in-her gayness. 

We’re headed to a tavern called The Smokehouse in Ipswitch. It says in Agatha’s notes that this is a very small venue, with only room for 80. I probably won’t be able to save a table for Baz but at least I can make sure he gets in as an informal “part of the band”.

“Do you even know how to drive, Simon?”

“Of course I do, Dev, you prat.”

“Well you’ve never had a car.”

“No, but I had lessons, same as everyone else, right?”

“When you were seventeen. Have you driven since then?”

“Christ, Dev, you guys have been bitching about me taking a turn driving for a week now.”

“That’s true, Dev,” Harvey pipes in.

Dev sighs. “But we never actually thought he was going to drive. We were just taking the piss out of him, remember.”

“Guys,” I say, decisively. “Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

So with that we set out. And it doesn’t go badly, either… I take it slow and they don’t prod me to speed. We have plenty of time. After awhile they start to relax, and I do too. Fuck Aggie. We can do this without her. I turn the radio on and pretty soon we’re singing along. Harvey sits in the front with me and Dev acts as the resident backseat driver. It’s fun.

“So what’d you do to scare Aggie away?” Dev asks.

“Well, she kind of offered herself to me in her motel room. And I wasn’t interested. That freaked her out.”

“Does she know about Baz?”

“She does now.”

“Oof; that’s brutal, Simon. Not the kind of conversation you want to have with a lady who likes you.”

“No. There’s no good way to tell someone you’re never going to be interested.”

Then, later, there’s more backseat badgering from Dev. Apparently he’s been thinking about the logistics of our relationship.

“So are you a bottom or a top?”

(Silence).

“Please tell me you didn’t just ask him that, Dev,” Harvey responds.

(10 more seconds of silence).

“Both,” I say. “We’re both.”

We all break into some relieved laughter, at that.

The miles go by… we’re in the country, now. “Are we stopping to eat somewhere? I have to piss, too.”

“I’ll take the next exit.”

We pull off the motorway and find a little mom and pop joint that sells fish and chips. I tell the guys I’m buying.

“What’s the occasion?” Harvey asks, good-humoredly.

“Guess I’m kind of appreciating you guys right now. Grateful you’re being so cool about Baz coming.”

“Just promise he’s not going to be the Yoko Ono of our band,” Dev says.

“He IS pretty artistic and hot-looking,” Harvey adds.

I ignore them and go on. “I mean, we don’t really know what kind of effect this is going to have on our tour, right? I mean, will the fans hate it if we deviate from the boy band script?”

“Just get that out of the way and introduce Baz to the crowd. We’ll take it as we go from there, but I really don’t expect a bad reaction. Look at all the big name queer musicians over the years… Freddy Mercury. David Bowie. Elton John. These guys had great careers and fans love their authenticity.”

“But I’m not flashy like that. I don’t like that kind of attention.”

“Come out in your own way, Simon. You don’t have to start acting like a type. Be your own damn self.” Harvey’s looking at me seriously, but he’s eating a chip and there’s ketchup on the side of his mouth. He’s like my very own ketchup-faced guru.

“See. That’s why I’m paying for lunch. I couldn’t ask for a better couple of blokes to play music with.”

******

Baz:

I make my travel plans in a hurry. I decide it’ll be faster if I just drive myself there; I talk to Penny about minding the shop while I’m gone. “No problem, Baz,” she says, with a hug — wishing me luck. She knows I’m off to meet Simon. She knows he’s ready to claim me as his own, now. 

She approves.

On the drive over, I can’t stop thinking about that… not Penny’s approval, but how Simon’s finally ready to acknowledge this relationship of ours in public. And not only that, he wants to marry me. He loves me, I love him, and we believe in each other. It’s all so good I find myself wondering when the wrench that’s going to disrupt our plans will get thrown in. How can it be that every mile, every minute I drive is bringing me closer to Simon and his arms? That’s just too good to be true. Surely there will be a car crash or a misunderstanding or something that will disturb the perfect bliss I’m driving toward.

Here’s to that old Grimm-Pitch optimism, right?

I chuckle to myself. I imagine Simon listening to my thoughts right now. He would definitely laugh and tease them all away. I think about the time he said, “Do I look like the kind of guy who isn’t going to get a happy ending?” and I know it’s true. In order for him to get his happy ending, I need it, too. If I drop the ball on my own happiness, I let Simon down.

This is really going to happen for us. It’s happening.

********  
Simon:

We find The Smokehouse in Ipswitch. Agatha’s notes say there’s an alley we can use to park and unload equipment in the back. We find the alley and park in the back of an old brick building, by the dumpster. Once inside, a bloke named Ian helps us figure out where to go and who to talk to. The ceilings are low and the whole place is dark and gritty, but there’s a good creative vibe to it and the people seem nice enough.

We start setting up.

I don’t forget to let security know that someone from our group will join us late, possibly after the gig’s already started, and that they are to let him in even if the place is packed. “He’s with us. His name is Baz.”

“Right, I’ll let the other guys know.”

“Thanks.”

The place we’re staying at is a boarding house in an old brick tenement building, just a few blocks from the pub. Since it’s so nearby we have plenty time to unload our luggage there, relax, and change before heading back to The Smokehouse. 

It always feels good to stretch out after a long morning folded into the van. I walk around a bit before plopping myself down on the modest-sized double bed I’ll share with Baz tonight. I can’t wait to see him at the show. I can’t wait to get him back to this room and have him all to myself once the show’s done.

I let myself start thinking about him. We’ve been apart only a week and a half, but that’s too long to not be able to look up into his gray eyes, hear his chest rumble with laughter as I lay my head against it, or smell the cedar and bergamot in his hair. It’ll be epic to have him back in my arms tonight. I hope the guys understand if I pass on darts again and whisk Baz away after the show. Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

They won’t mind. I can only hope Dev doesn’t bust an eyeball winking at us as we make our exit.

*********

Harvey:

We’re set up and ready to go, but Simon keeps scanning the room. Baz isn’t here yet, and Simon must expect him to pop through the door any second. He’s obviously pretty excited for that. I hope Baz doesn’t let him down.

Simon looks great tonight. If Dev and I each have 25% of the band’s looks, Simon has the other 50%. But isn’t that how it kind of goes with lead singers? They channel the charisma of a group… they set the tone and are the one fans spend most of their time looking at. Helps if they are pretty.

I’ve certainly spent a lot of time in my life looking at Snow. As a matter of fact, a few years ago he was my favorite thing to look at. But now we’re all grown up (I am, anyway) and things are different. I have other things to look at. My wife and beautiful kids, for one. And the telly. And my bank account. No more time for beautiful blue-eyed boys… unless they want to play music with me.

There’s a part of my heart that aches a little at Simon’s happiness. Is it because I regret giving him up? Or is it that I’m jealous that he gets that form of “happily ever after” I declined for myself? I don’t know. And I can’t be bothered with looking into any one of those questions too closely. 

The lights go down. We’re introduced, and Simon struts across the (very small) stage, smiling and waving. He takes the mic and gives the audience that long sideways glance and smile they’re starting to love. He’s met with a healthy amount of applause; we’ve built a small local following already on this tour (that’s what I’m calling the ten or so fans I recognize from other concerts), and the record company’s been doing their part to promote us online.

He starts talking to the crowd in his low, husky voice.

“Hello, Ipswitch.” He introduces us, talks about the drive over, makes a joke about the low ceilings. Before long he’s counting and nodding his head, watching Dev, and I’m hitting the opening chords for “Roxanne.” We’ll do mostly cover songs tonight.

We’re about three songs in when there’s movement in the crowd. A security guard has led Baz up to the front, and he’s planted himself just off to the side of Simon, stage left. I wait for Simon to notice… it doesn’t take long. I feel the jolt in the air as their eyes meet and Simon sees “his” Baz.

Baz just got out of the car after a six hour drive, but he looks like he should be up here with us, the posh git. His layered dark hair is perfect and contrasts in a striking way with the color of the lilac-colored button-up he’s wearing. He’s got black jeans on and maybe boots… he’s taller than I remember. To his credit, Simon doesn’t trip over any of his lines when he sees Baz. But he’s definitely charged by his presence. It feels like he’s singing to that side of the room, now.

Simon goes on to perform maybe his best set ever. It’s like “Baz is here, so now I come to life”. His smile to the crowd is so genuine, his eyes so kind and happy, everyone smiles back. He walks up and down the stage… he hits all the right notes. He has a confidence and a comfort in his own skin I know he didn’t always have.

The light catches his curls in just the right way to make him look golden. The crowd is riveted and eating it all up. The thumping beat of bass guitar, drums, and Simon’s energy.

After the very last song, after the applause dies down, Simon stays standing by the mic. “I want to introduce you to someone very special,” he says. “Baz, will you come up here?”

Baz kind of blushes and grimaces, but he goes up. He meets Simon on stage and turns to face the audience. There are some whistles and catcalls from the more spirited segments of the crowd. “This,” Simon says, taking a breath, “is my boyfriend Baz.” He takes Baz’s hand and pulls him closer. He kisses him full on the lips for about five seconds.

The crowd… goes wild. Not only do they seem not to mind that they just saw two blokes kissing… they seem to approve. 

Simon and Baz are looking at each other and grinning, now. As the crowd continues to cheer and applaud, and Simon and Baz remain standing side by side, we all come to the realization that this “big reveal” is definitely not going to be the end of the band.

*************

Simon:

I want to steal Baz away after the show, so I can have him all to myself, but there’s no time. People keep coming up and buying us drinks, congratulating me on the good set… asking where the band’s headed next. Before long we all get roped into a game of darts. By the time Baz and I steal off down the street to my bedroom, it’s almost 2 a.m.

We’re holding hands… every now and then Baz does that thing where he pulls me into an alley to kiss, and it’s just like the first time. Finally we get to the boarding house and I locate the room key in my jacket pocket. Once the door clicks softly behind us and we’re alone for the first time in 1 ½ weeks, it’s all I can do not to pounce on Baz. Instead, though, I reach for his hands and pull them up to my lips, before saying, “You’re here.”

Baz looks down into my eyes. “You told everyone about me. You called me yours and kissed me in front of the world.”

“In front of the one pub in Ipswich, anyway.” But I move closer and whisper, “Why wouldn’t I, Baz? I’m so proud of you. I’m so in love with you. I’m going to introduce you throughout Britain, if you let me.”

“That might cut into your time with groupies.”

“I sure as hell hope so.”

We come together in a kiss… a real kiss, not a public one. I shudder at how good it feels to connect with him this way, again. “Baz,” I say, another whisper. A plea from my heart, really.

“Simon,” he answers in a murmur, moving his hands up to my face and gently framing it. He pulls away, just enough to look at me. “Darling Simon,” he says, moving on to kiss me along the different curves and edges of my face. He’s never been more tender or loverly. I place my hands on his sides, just above his hips, and gently guide him over to the bed.

Baz:

This is all very romantic, but it’s my first night on the tour with Simon. It would be easy and sweet to let things continue like this, all lovely and respectful. But perhaps after the great relief of coming out of the closet tonight we should do something bolder and take it in “another direction”, for awhile.

Simon:

Baz is giving me a look that I don’t quite understand.

It catches me by surprise when he pushes me down onto the bed but stays standing. I prop myself up on elbows to look at him.

“Baz-?”

He doesn’t really address the question in my voice. Instead, he looks down at me and says, breathlessly, “I can't believe I’m in a motel room with the Simon Salisbury.”

“What?” I ask dumbstruck.

“I love your music, Simon. Maybe you could... sign an autograph?” Baz continues, and it sounds so ridiculous to hear him say something like that… but also kind of hot. (I think we had a conversation about this before I left-? Is that where he’s going with this, I wonder?) 

Before I get to say a word, he adds, “Do you mind signing on bare skin?” Baz is almost purring when he says “bare”. Yeah, he’s going there. Baz is playing a groupie tonight.

Fucking hell. This is so hot.

“I could…” I answer, flustered. I’ve never done anything like this — role play or talk to a groupie. 

“I’ll make it worth your while. You know I’ve never been with a celebrity before?”

“Oh…” is all I can say. I’ve never had Baz be this flirty and playful before. I try to imagine that I don’t know Baz… I’ve just met him. And here he is in my room— this hot guy. Getting dirty with me… trying to take away my control.

I’m not going to lie — it’s exciting. At the same time, though, I have no idea how to reply because I’ve never done this. What should I say? Does Baz have this all planned out? How is he so calm?

Baz:

I started something here, but I’m not entirely sure how to finish it. I feel as though I could faint from the pressure I put on myself by starting this game. I don’t particularly have a plan, other than “blow job.” Can that be considered a plan?

“I’m very good with my mouth,” I say, as if I’m trying to talk him into it. I have a straight face and give Simon my best bedroom eyes.

“Oh…” Simon says, again. He likes this, I can tell. He isn’t usually this quiet and at a loss for words. I’m leaving him speechless... perfect. This gives me the confidence to continue...

“Would you like me to show you what my mouth is capable of doing?” I ask and bite my lower lip.

Simon:

“Okay…” I squeak. 

Fuck… Baz is so hot. How is he so smooth right now?

Fuck. Should I be taking off my jeans?

Just as I reach to undo my belt, Baz swats my hand away.

“Don’t you dare hurt your rock god hands with all these unnecessary movements. Let me do all the work…”. Fuck, he’s purring again in that last part. I’m already half hard and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

Baz looks at me steadily while unbuckling my belt and unzipping my fly. 

Fuck.

Baz:

I do my best not to let my hands tremble as I free his cock. Simon is getting hard in my hand. He’s biting his lower lip and looking like he’s both frightened of me and delighted with me. He wasn’t expecting a groupie experience tonight. 

I hum and purr as I lower his pants. I lick my lips. Simon’s face is flushed now… his head’s pushed back and it looks like he’s torn between just giving up and giving himself over to me with closed eyes, or staring at everything I do and memorizing the scene for later.

“Oh… what a big and hard cock… Just the way I like it…”

I can’t help but wonder if I’m overdoing it? Will Simon start to laugh at any time now?

Simon:

Oh bloody fucking Christ!

I have no idea if this is what happens with groupies, but I’m pretty sure that is what happens in porn movies with a “groupie” plot.

How did I get such a hot boyfriend? And how did I get him to agree to be with me, only me, forever?

I really need to start pulling my weight in this fantasy. So far I’ve pretty much acted like a stunned fifteen year old.

“What else do you like?” I ask, and this time I don’t stumble over my words. 

Baz gives me a quick look.

Baz:

Oh, Simon likes it. Good. I was starting to worry this was a bad idea. Like maybe I offended him.

I take a breath and keep going. 

“Oh there’s so much to do with a good cock, isn’t there? And this famous cock… well. It’s the best I’ve seen. I want to suck it deep and for a very long time.”

“Yeah?” Simon's voice sounds hoarse. Good; it means he’s extremely aroused.

I’m kneeling in front of him as he sits on the edge of the bed. I start teasing his cock a bit and then let it spring free as I move around his inner thighs with my hands.

“Oh yes. I want to take you all the way — deepthroat you.”

“Is that right?” He whispers.

“Mmhmm,” I reply. “But we can’t stop there. I want you to fuck my mouth with your cock.” I say, and almost choke on those words alone. 

He’s speechless. “Unless you don’t want that, Mr. Salisbury?” I add.

“Uh, no... I mean, yes—” he all but stammers.

I look Simon right in the eye.

“Tell me what you want.”

Simon swallows long and loud. “I want to fuck your pretty mouth,” Simon says and goes completely red after.

I don’t think Simon has it in him to continue for much longer. And honestly, neither do I. It’s been very hard to hold my face and not start chuckling like a schoolboy at this whole ordeal. We need to be done soon.

I lean in and take Simon in my mouth, all at once. I know he likes when I do that. I usually don’t, it’s not the most comfortable way to start up a blow job. I prefer to work up to it a bit first and not shock my throat just right out of the blue. But today I’m adventurous and hungry for him.

“Fuck, Baz,” Simon takes hold of my hair and growls. Now I know this was the right decision.

I suck Simon for a few more moments — going deep every time — to get used to the new pressure in my throat and let go of him. Time to wrap this role-play up.

“Now fuck my mouth!”

Simon looks at me dumbstruck.

Simon:

Is this part of the role-play? Or is he being serious?

I thought Baz was just engaging me in dirty talk. I didn’t think we were actually going to do that.

“Baz-” I say.

“Yes Mr. Salisbury?” he answers, licking his lips. He fucking licks them.

“Come on. I’m being serious now. You don’t actually mean this, right?”

“I do, Simon. I want to,” he tells me.

”Are you sure about it? Really sure?”

“Yes, love. I want to try. We can try and see how it goes.” Baz looks dead serious, he means what he says.

“Really?”

“Yes, unless you don't want to?”

“I want to,” I answer, probably a little too fast and eagerly… because apparently I’m depraved.

“Alright then,” Baz gives me a cocky smirk. He’s too cool for me.

“How do we... do it?”

“Stand up, let me help you, love.”

As soon as I’m up, Baz returns to his knees in front of me and looks up.

“Ready, love?”

“I should probably ask you that question.”

“I’m ready,” he says and envelopes my cock with his luscious lips. 

Fucking hell! He did it again. My throat is flexible from singing so I can do things faster than Baz. He usually takes his time with the blowjob. I don’t mind him going slow but I really really like it when he takes me whole right away.

I start out slow. I don't want to hurt him and eventually work up a bit of a speed. I think it's good I’m this nervous because otherwise I would have come right on the spot. This is just insanely hot.

It almost feels as though I’m stargazing while looking at Baz’s beautiful eyes and I forget everything around except for the two of us. 

He’s looking up at me and he’s so sexy like this on his knees with his luxurious lips around my hard cock.

Baz is taking all of me in and letting me slide my cock in and out his mouth, letting me set the pace. (I’m trying not to do any sudden movements.)

This is probably the hottest experience of my life. But I can’t really let myself go because there’s no way I’m going to hurt Baz. I couldn’t say no to a bit of this but I refuse to actually pound into his mouth. I love that face too much.

“Baz, love,” I call for him, pulling out reluctantly.

“Simon?” he asks me, obviously confused.

“Come up here,” I say and help him up, so he’s beside me. And then add, “I want you, now.”

“I thought you were having me,” he chuckles.

“Let’s find something else to do with your pretty mouth,” I say and kiss him so he knows exactly what I mean by that.

I almost fall down since I’m still wearing my jeans and by now they are almost hanging from my arse. (I didn’t want to accidentally bump my belt buckle into Baz’s face so I lowered them down a bit.)

There’s no finesse to our undressing; we get naked as fast as humanly possible and then Baz leaves to get his bag (for lube, I guess).

However, when he comes back he has both the lube and our “sex cushion”.

I try to cock an eyebrow at him like he usually does. Not sure if it worked but at least I got my point across.

“I like to be prepared,” he smirks at me.

Of course, I shouldn’t even be surprised.

I get on top of Baz as soon as he settles in and kiss him — his face and his neck. I keep at it for a little longer, especially around those spots I know he enjoys the most.

Baz gave me the best kind of present today, both by coming here on such short notice and surprising me with that role-play. It was embarrassing but also so fucking hot (Baz was the “hot” part and I was the “embarrassing” part). 

And then he let me fuck his mouth and that was just… wow. It was so hot but also terrifying. I really don’t want to hurt my fiancè.

That’s why even though right now all I want is to prepare Baz so I can make love to him as soon as possible, I take my time to make him feel as good as I can, first. I want to do every little thing he likes.

I swirl my tongue around his ear and bite it softly. I’m not much of an ear guy but I know how much he likes to hear my breath close in his ear. I trail kisses across his cheek and jaw till I reach the other side and do the same to his other ear. I feel Baz shiver with pleasure. He presses our cheeks together and inhales. 

We’re sinking into each other. Hot as the blow job was, our flesh pressed together up and down the length of our bodies is the tactile pleasure I wanted, after being apart so long.

I want every little intimacy. I move my attention lower, to his nipples. I kiss them, lick them and bite them very carefully. I bit a little too hard once, and he let me know right away. Things like that happen as you discover each other. Luckily Baz is patient and we encourage each other to try new things.

As I’m licking and tasting him, I get a great idea— or I hope so, at least. Because you know what goes good with salty? Sweet.

There’s a can of sprayable whipped cream in the fridge. It’s actually Dev’s. I ended up with it in my grocery bag after shopping earlier today. I don’t think Dev will mind if I “borrow” it.

“One moment, darling, ” I tell Baz and get up from him.

“Everything alright, love?”

“Yes. Just need to grab something real quick,” I don’t say what; I want it to be a surprise. Hopefully a good one.

Baz chuckles when he sees me coming back with whipped cream. He always asks for extra in his latte so I know for a fact he likes the taste.

“Don’t worry, darling. It’s the real kind, not one of those artificial things you're always worried about,” I reassure him before he comments on that. Dev is also one of “those” eco obsessed weirdos. For me personally — food is food, I don’t care how it’s made. But Baz cares a lot and I try to accommodate him as much as I can. He does the same for me. That’s a good foundation to build a marriage on. (We’re lucky to have each other.) 

Baz just chuckles, “Thank you, love.”

I get back on top of him and suddenly am not entirely sure where I’m going with this.

As if Baz can read my mind (sometimes I think he knows me too well, better than I know myself), he raises himself up and takes the can from me.

“Open your mouth,” he tells me and I oblige even though I have no idea where this is going exactly. 

Baz sprays the whipped cream into my mouth and then starts licking it from there. Oh, fucking hell! How is he so hot? What is he even doing with a dolt like me?

I kiss him when he’s done licking all the cream up. (Baz is very thorough so it took him a while and it was so hot.)

There is something I want to try and I hope Baz will enjoy it.

“Lie down darling, I’m not done with you yet,” I try to sound seductive. Hope it’s working.

Baz smiles at me, “Someone is very adventurous today.”

“Can’t let you be all the brains in this endeavour, can I now?” This time I manage a flirty smirk. Baz raises that sexy brow at me, just the way only he knows how…

As soon as Baz is settled back down, I spray the whipped cream on his nipples and start licking them, making sure to look at him while doing that.

Baz is looking very intently at me and is biting his lip— that’s how I know he likes it. I keep going and start smearing the whip cream with my tongue across his stomach and then lick it up.

“Oh…” I hear him moan.

I know Baz has a very sensitive stomach, he enjoys me licking it and I do — I lick it for a very long time, adding more cream as I go. The cold from the cream is making him shiver and I let my tongue warm his skin back up… I feel him getting extremely hard.

Honestly, that makes a pretty nice meal, licking food off his stomach. I could see myself eating more stuff off Baz. Why haven’t we tried that before?

“Time for the main dish,” I tell him with my best bedroom eyes (I don’t actually have any, he only humours me), spraying the cream all over his cock.

“Simon-” Baz exclaims and I start to worry it’s too cold.

“Too much?” I ask self-consciously.

He gives me a look that is impossible to explain but it simultaneously does things to me and my cock, “Not enough.”

“Fuck…” I spray some more and start devouring his beautiful cock. 

As soon as I lick everything up and swirl my tongue a few times around his tip (and make him gasp “Yes”) I take Baz whole and show how grateful for him I am.

“Oh… Simon…”

I just keep sucking slow and deep, the way he likes it and feel him buckle and twitch.

I make sure to pay a lot of attention to his tip with both my lips and my tongue while still sucking. That’s what makes Baz completely randy and drives him practically insane with pleasure.

What can I say — I have an extremely flexible mouth.

And then while I’m already at it I spread his legs. (I’m assuming that since Baz had the foresight to bring our “sex cushion” along, he also had already taken a thorough shower.)

I spray some whip cream on his rim.

Baz:

What is he up to?

“Simon?” I lift myself up and ask, because I think I know where this is going but I still need to ask.

That’s when I feel him licking whipped cream from my rim.

“Oh…” This is probably the hottest thing we’ve done today, including the role-play.

He looks up at me, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare,” I breathe out because I really need him to keep going.

Simon gives me his trademark grin, the one that only I get — it’s part cocky, part shy-- just like Simon himself.

“Do you maybe- Um-” he stammers. 

“Tell me, love.”

“Do you want to turn around?”

“Sure,” I say and turn onto my stomach. “Anything else?”

“Could you get on your knees, if you- if you want to,” he says, and he’s nervous.

The truth is, sometimes that’s nice. Not because I want Simon to be nervous around me, but because I’m glad he doesn’t simply expect everything to be served on a silver platter to him. And he never does that, he appreciates every single thing. It means a lot. I feel the same about him. I know that he only buys health food for my benefit, and that at times he does things in bed that are mostly for my benefit, too. First and foremost he wants me to feel good. I see every little sweet thing he does for me, and it all means the world to me.

I get on my knees and prop myself up on my elbows, for now. It all depends what Simon has in mind exactly, I might not be able to balance on my elbows for too long.

I feel the coolness of the whole cream as Simon sprays it all over my behind and then starts licking and kissing everywhere. The warmth of his body balances the coolness and makes me shiver in pleasure. 

As the time goes, Simon starts getting closer to my rim and finally sprays it with the cold cream and takes a long powerful lick.

“Yes…” it feels good, really good. He keeps spraying the cream and licking and letting his tongue go a bit deeper every time and I’m so hard now I’m not even sure what to do with myself anymore.

“Keep going… love…” I beg him and he does.

The deeper Simon gets the better everything feels. He’s probing my arse and is driving me insane with his amazing tongue.

“You taste so good, love,” he says. “Delicious…”

I almost squeal at that and then Simon’s tongue is back inside me and I can’t stop moaning, because it’s so bloody good.

“Oh…yes...”

It’s getting to the point where I need more, where I can’t think about anything else than his cock in me…

“I need you, love. Now!” I’m being impatient and I really couldn’t care less. I don’t think Simon will disagree.

He places a few kisses all around me.

“I’ll be back in a moment, don’t move, darling.” Simon says and leaves. At first I’m not sure exactly what is happening, but I do stay in place. I think I might like this position a lot. 

Everything falls into place when I feel a warm washcloth against me.

“Thank you, love.”

“I brought a towel too, darling,” he says and places one under me. I adjust so it’s placed where it’s needed. This time he was the one with foresight. In my defense I didn't know how things were going to go...

Simon keeps kissing me after he cleans me up and licks and probes me with his tongue a bit more. It’s just as good but I do need more.

However, I didn’t need to tell him that. I hear the lid on the lube and a few moments later Simon starts to carefully open me up with his finger. By the time it’s fully in I’m wiggling and gasping. 

“More…”

“Someone's inpatient,” Simon chuckles and kisses me next to his finger and then starts to lick me while he fingers me. And that is so good.

“Yes… Just like that…”

When the second finger is in, he starts to crook them and I’m starting to lose any semblance of self-control. I push myself back into him, wanting to feel it more, wanting him to go deeper.

I know Simon takes this much time for my benefit even though he doesn’t have to. That’s why I’m doing my best not to rush him but it’s getting more difficult by the moment.

As soon as he’s done with the third finger I rock on it so hard, Simon must take the hint. 

“Please…” There seems to be a lot of begging going on and that somehow makes the whole experience hotter. In real life I don’t beg. But I like doing it here in the bedroom with Simon. 

“Take me please…”

Simon takes out his finger and places a few more kisses on my behind and all around my rim. (I bought the edible lube again after that fiasco of a night we had.)

I hear Simon lubing in his cock and I’m almost shaking with anticipation. It’s been one and a half weeks, I need him inside me… 

I need to feel his wonderful cock.

He starts off very slow, probing me with his hard cock. Eventually he takes hold of my hips and starts moving carefully inside me. And it's already so good.

“You feel so good…” I moan.

“You’re the one that feels good, love,” Simon says with shuddered breathing while getting up a bit of a speed. 

By the time Simon is fully inside I might have ended up in heaven. He’s filling me up and makes my whole body tremble with pleasure.

“Yes… Oh yes…” Simon is an amazing lover. Never selfish, always giving, and his cock is incredible.

“Simon…”

“You’re so tight, love.” Oh… that’s new… Simon rarely talks during sex and definitely not dirty.

Have I created a monster with my earlier role-play?

“Tell me... more…” I gasp. I want Simon to talk dirty to me today. After everything that happened in the last one and a half weeks I need and want everything. I need reassurance, and tonight that reassurance can be some unexpected and deliciously naughty dirty talk.

“You have… the prettiest and… tightest arse…” Simon makes sure to pound extra hard during his little speech and it’s a sensory overload right here and now.

“Oh… Simon…”

I start thrusting back into him, mirroring and matching his thrusts. By the time I reach my prostate orgasm I’m ready to explode. 

“I’m close…” I tell him and before I get to do anything, he sprawls over me and while still pounding, reaches for my cock.

“Oh yes… yes yes yes…” I’m practically screaming as Simon gets me off while still thrusting just as hard…

I feel Simon shudder against me and inside me just as I spill over the towel. I collapse onto the bed and Simon follows suit, lying on top of me, both of us breathing heavily. 

Simon:

I kiss Baz on the back of his neck, it makes him shiver again. I like making him shiver from pleasure.

“I love you, Baz,” I say and kiss him up to his ear.

“Oh, Simon. I love you too, ” I can’t see his face but I can hear the smile in his voice.

“I missed you. It was too long,” I say even though I know it has only been one and a half weeks. But it felt like eternity without him.

“It was agony. I missed you too, so very much.”

Baz tries to turn and after we fumble around for a bit — we’re lying face to face. I kiss his beautiful face and lips and enjoy his warmth against me. I’m finally happy. I finally feel home, despite us lying on a bed in a motel room.

We clean up eventually and take a long shower. It feels nice to shower together again.

When we get up, Baz goes for his bag and produces two pillows, a blanket, and a set of sheets.

“Darling,” I say, and I can’t quite hide my chuckle. “You do realize they have all that here?”

Baz raises his perfect brow to the highest position. (It’s his extra serious “you’re a moron, Simon” expression.)

“Do you remember what we just did, love?”

I feel like this must be a trick question but I answer nonetheless.

“How can I forget, this was quite the reunion.”

Baz actually blushes at that. (Well, it seems I wasn’t the only one affected after all.)

Then he gives me a look and then glances towards the bed.

“Well, we used a towel, ” I say.

“And how many people do you think use towels or bring their own pillows for sex? Do you really want to sleep on the motel pillow, love?”

Oh… I’ve never thought about that.

“You’re going to ruin all my vacation memories.”

“Forget about the past and only think about the future,” Baz says with a smile, shaking our pillows from home at me.

“Sounds like a plan,” I answer and reach for him, taking all the bedding from his arms and dropping it onto the bed. I kiss him then, deeply and with all the love I can muster, because that’s exactly what I plan on doing-- concentrate on the future. Except, the future I’m thinking about isn’t vacations or the pillows we’ll pack — it’s about Baz in my arms and us spending a lifetime together. That’s the kind of future worth thinking about. That’s a dream I never knew could become a reality. And it has — we’re together and we’re going to get married. 

We’re happy.

“You’re everything a bloke can dream of,” I whisper against his lips. “I love you, darling.”

“So are you, Simon. I love you.” There’s that smile again. I kiss it and Baz for as long as I can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue! Also I plan on attaching a playlist and drawings to this text (though first I have to figure out how to use my new electronic drawing pad). 
> 
> A huge debt of gratitude goes to sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire for being not only my beta reader but also assisting me in the bedroom (Simon and Baz's bedroom, that is). It's been an adventure, and while it's hard to believe I was ever a Catholic school girl, the story is (mostly) done. Hope you've enjoyed it.


	21. Epilogue: The Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon and Baz spend their honeymoon in isolation on a remote tropical island. Simon reminisces about their wedding and a surprisingly sweet glimpse into how long Baz has loved him.
> 
> In other words, fluff AND smut.

Chapter 21: Epilogue (The Honeymoon)

Baz:

It’s quiet and we’re alone… a gentle breeze from the beach sweeps the gauzy curtains up and around the windows. Tropical birds are singing from the trees, and the hum of insects, lapping ocean waves, and tick of our ceiling fan lulled us to sleep in the sticky afternoon.

The sheets on our bungalow bed are white linen, and I know they’re clean because I brought them from home. Simon’s laying on his stomach, head turned away from me, sleeping the sleep of exhaustion as he (probably) drools on his pillow. His bronze curls are kissed with sun and his skin is noticeably darker than it was in England (except for his bum, of course). He’s been thoroughly sun-kissed and Baz-kissed.

Because we’re on honeymoon. We’re married now… Simon and I. 

I stretch and nestle into my pillow, listening to the island. Watching a blue butterfly flap lazily through one of our windows before it exits out the other. 

We’re thoroughly alone. 

After the wedding, I wanted to take Simon on a Mediterranean cruise for our honeymoon. But then the Corona virus started creeping up and we realized it would be better to stay home. And we could have been very happy that way, too, if Father’s friend hadn’t told us about the island.

He owns a small island in the Caribbean. It’s tiny, but it has a couple of bungalows on it, along with electricity and water run by a solar-powered generator. If we flew over enough supplies for ourselves to stay a good long while, Father’s friend said we could wait the virus out while honeymooning here.

Simon loved the idea, of course (once I reassured him we could afford it). He wanted to go alone, just the two of us, but I persuaded him on the practicality of letting at least two people come along… the helicopter pilot, in case there’s an emergency and we need to get back, as well as someone who can housekeep and cook for us. There are suites for Keith and Jenny (the pilot and cook) in the second bungalow, and they give us plenty of space and privacy. They know we’re on honeymoon so are going to great pains not to interrupt us… it’s kind of humorous. Like if they’re not really, really careful they’re going to inadvertently spy us screwing each other (which is, I must admit, a legitimate concern). Some days they’re so tactful in staying away from us it feels like Simon and I really do have this island all to ourselves. 

We’ve been here a week, and it’s been a relaxing, peaceful time. I had no idea Simon was such a nappy person. When he’s not eating or having sex with me, he’s like a big happy cat lying in a patch of sunlight. 

Naps are helped along by the fact that we have almost no communication with the outside world. The cell phone signal is so bad here (and forget about the wireless), so we’ve given up trying to use our phones, and instead rely on the pilot to keep us up to date on any big news that develops in the outside world. He has a two-way radio and can catch headlines and talk back and forth with the mainland. He hasn’t been telling us very much, so either there’s little going on in the world or he’s letting us live in a honeymoon bubble. 

I suspect it’s the latter, but I’m not complaining. We needed a break and a chance to seal our new relationship after the hubbub and din of the tour. We needed a chance to be lazy and just… lovers. I thought I would miss the bookshop but honestly I’ve hardly thought about it.

Simon rolls over and faces me, now. From the tip of his nose, to his eyelashes, to his full lips… he’s perfect. I move closer and he smiles, eyes slitting open but then closing again. He throws an arm and a leg over me like he wants to make sure I don’t sneak away.

And why in the world would I do that? After a while I drift off back to sleep, too.

*********

Simon:

I wake up and at first I don’t know where I am. But I look over and see Baz, so then it doesn’t even matter where I am. I’m with him, and all is right with the world. 

I can’t believe I ever objected to this island getaway in the first place. When he told me about this, my first reaction was “what’s it going to cost”, but of course if I don’t limit our activities to just what I can afford but instead start going with what we can afford, a tropical honeymoon was just fine. 

My second worry was about leaving Ebb for so long. I mean, I don’t live with her anymore; haven’t for a while. But this virus thing… it’s kind of scary and new. Will she be okay? What if she gets sick?

She laughed that concern away, for me. She said she’s hunkering down and hibernating in her apartment with stacks of books and projects and enough provisions to get her through the year. She told me to go on, go away… she has some reading to do.

So I told Baz “yes”, and he whisked me away to a tropical island...

***********

We shower and dress and check the fridge in our little kitchenette, to see what Jenny has left us to eat. There’s a fresh fruit salad, salad with cucumber in it, and shredded barbeque pork and rolls waiting for us… along with a full pitcher of Pimms. Mmmm. I pour some into champagne glasses (because of course there are champagne glasses in the cupboard), add a fresh orange slice to the rim of each one, and fix us a couple of plates. We go sit outside in the shade of the patio. The breeze from the sea feels good.

It’s hot so I’m wearing shorts, a tank top, and bare feet. I haven’t seen Baz wear shorts yet… not sure if he owns any... but he is wearing short loose capris-style pants today, with a white linen short-sleeved button-up (half undone) and bare feet. He’s got sunglasses on and his lush black hair is blowing back in the breeze like I’m marooned with a goddam movie star.

“What should we do today, darling?” he asks in a slow drawl, sipping his Pimm.

“Let’s go down to the beach and look for rocks and drift wood. Maybe we could even go for a swim.” I say. What I think is “let me steal you away to the beach so I can pound you into the sand.”

“That sounds delightful.” Baz says, licking his lips. He may understand more than I thought...

We pack a lunch, plenty of water, a blanket to lay on, towels… basically everything we can think of to be comfortable outdoors for a couple of hours. We let Jenny and Keith know where we’re going, so nobody worries… and also so they can avoid going to that spot for a couple of hours…

It’s easier just to walk barefoot, but we carry our sandals and we’re each wearing a rucksack. We start at the shore, but then Baz has us turn inland to follow a fresh water stream. “I heard about a secret spot,” he tells me, mysteriously. In a few minutes we can’t see or hear any signs of civilization and have our sandals back on because the path’s become less sandy and more rugged. We step gingerly over and around fallen trees and rocks. We look where we’re going, though. It wouldn’t do to step on anything poisonous. 

Finally we find a shady, sandy spot. There’s a small break in the trees overhead and an open, sandy patch dappled with sunlight. The stream has widened into a lovely fresh water lagoon. It must be spring-fed because the water is so clear and pure. Now that we’ve stopped walking all I hear is the trickling of water, the ocean off in the distance, and gulls.

“This looks like a good spot for a rest. Let’s put the blanket here,” I suggest.

Baz stops and unloads his rucksack. There’s a sweat stain where it covered his shoulders, and his back is probably soaked. I see him swat away a mosquito and am glad neither of us has had to put on bug spray, yet. The breeze along the shore did a good job keeping the bugs at bay, and we can still feel it a little here in this open spot, despite the trees. I don’t want there to be limits on where I can kiss Baz during this excursion, but I really don’t like the taste of bug spray.

We spread the blanket out together and sit on it. It feels good to bury my feet in the sand. My heels hit cool damp dirt underneath and it’s such a fresh, simple feeling. 

“Water?” he asks, handing me a flask.

“Yes, please.”

Even the water tastes more delicious out here. Every single little thing we do feels like a treat. Life on the island is so stripped down… no noise, except what nature provides; no visual overload. Just eat, sleep, wake, and make love.

And I’m really looking forward to that last part. 

“Should we go for a little swim?” I ask. “A skinny dip?”

“Mmm,” Baz replies. “That might feel really good.”

“Yes, it’s hot, isn’t it?”

“Sizzling.”

We stand up and start removing our shirts. I hand mine to Baz and he lays both our shirts over a couple of bushes. Then off go our bottoms, and our pants. We hold hands and walk into the water gingerly. It’s a little cool, at first. 

“Come on… none of that! Let’s dive in,” I say, and let go his hand to do just that. I jump up and then go head first into the water, coming up and spouting like a whale just a few feet away from him. I shake my head and do my best to spatter him with water.

“Your turn!” I tease.

He raises an eyebrow and looks skeptical about whether or not that’s a good idea, but then he does what I just did. Except he stays under water a bit longer and I lose track of him for a few seconds. Then I feel a hand on my butt and he pops up right beside me, wrapping his arms around me from behind and kissing me on the neck.

“Oh! Hi,” I say.

“Hi.”

The water’s not actually cold so we adjust to it pretty quickly. It feels heavenly. No doubt my enjoyment of the water is enhanced by the way Baz is rubbing his naked body up behind me, and I feel that he’s already getting hard.

He’s kissing my shoulders and back now. His hands are on my hips and his cock is right… there. I spin around, making sure to keep contact with his cock by brushing my skin on it. I throw my arms around his neck.

“This is so naughty,” I say. “What if someone sees us?”

Baz laughs. “Not likely.”

“But possible…”.

“I suppose.”

“What if they saw me… do this?” and I wrap my hand around his cock. I start to stroke it up and down.

“That would be,” Baz gasps, “scandalous.”

I lean in and we kiss. We’re both wet, so I don’t worry about whether it’s sloppy. I lick his jaw and tug gently on his lower lip with my teeth. I keep my hand moving on his cock. He moans.

I feel his hands on my waist, and then they slip lower. He grabs me by the buttocks and lifts me up in the water. I wrap my legs around his waist. I feel him snake a hand down my front. He holds my bollocks softly in his hand and then strokes up and behind to my rim.

“What if they saw this?” he whispers. He’s fingering around my rim.

“Omigod, that would be so bad,” I reply, sucking on his neck. “They would think we’re shameless.”

Baz kisses me lightly and sets me down. “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he says. He wades out of the water, naked, and starts digging in his rucksack. Is he looking for lube? Yep. I see the bottle. He grins and waves at me.  
Omigod… is this going to work in water? Won’t the lube wash off? It’s silicon-based, so maybe not...I guess we’re experimenting, here.

His finger all lubed up, he wades back into the water. He makes a show of it for me, keeping eye contact and walking slowly, licking his lips, and I’m happy to see he still has a partial erection. He returns to my side and we pick up where we left off… me with my legs wrapped around his waist, him rubbing a now lubricated finger around my rim. He slowly inserts it. He gets all the way up to the knuckle before slowly pulling it out. He repeats that, and it feels so good in the water.

The water is shallow enough I can see Baz’s nipples. They’re erect, and I want them. I brush my hands up against them and then pinch them lightly. I lick them and twist them till Baz moans and sticks two fingers up me. This time he crooks them so he touches my prostate. I shudder and moan into his shoulder a little.

“Simon,” he says softly, “I love touching you in the water but I think the lube is washing off. Maybe we should be on the blanket.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” I huff. “But damn I like you in the water.”

“I’ll still be wet…” Baz promises.

He gently disentangles my legs from his waist and sets me down, so my feet sink back into the sand of the lagoon bottom. I know we’re meant to leave the water now and return to the blanket, but first… one kiss. My hands slide up to his neck and brush his damp hair away. I let my hands smooth down his biceps and clench them as I draw him closer. I press our lips together and then open his mouth with the gentle pressure of our kiss.

I love how his arms feel, but I keep my hands moving and now they’re at his waist… his hips. I snake them around till they find the smooth muscled mounds of his arse.

God, he’s well put together, there.

Perfect time to lean into him a little and rub ourselves together. The cool-warm water of the lagoon and the gentle slide of our cocks against one another… mmm. I surge forward a little too much and Baz stumbles back, laughing. “Hey now, big guy,” he murmurs against my lips, steadying himself. And I lose all patience. Why the hell aren’t we on that blanket, yet?

With a sweep of my arms as I duck down, I scoop Baz up and carry him, bridal-style, out of the water and onto the blanket. I lay him down reverently, like he’s the most precious, incredible thing in the world. Because he is, to me. Then I pile on top of him, and he accepts me, spreading his legs a little. 

Because we belong together; we fit. Because we have learned to simply slot ourselves together, and all questions are answered, all doubts are cleared, all wounds are healed.

Baz:

I may be taller than Simon, but he’s plenty strong. When he picked me up and carried me out of the water, all I had to do was lean against his chest and enjoy the ride. 

I’ve never felt so taken care of, so adored, in my life.

Then I’m lying on the blanket and the dappled light is falling on my skin. I feel chilly, just for a moment, until Simon joins me on the blanket and crawls over the top of me, sheltering me… protecting me.

It feels incredible. Ever since the night I joined him on the tour, Simon has been more open with me. He was always honest, but in a restrained, careful way. Like he wasn’t all in… because he couldn’t be. 

But that’s changed, and now it feels like it’s us against the world. We’re together and united in every aspect possible. Yes, one can argue that marriage is a simple piece of paper, but for me it’s so much more. It’s Simon stating openly and unashamedly that I’m his and he’s mine, that we’re together, forever.

I remember when he wouldn’t let me buy him a pair of pants and a shirt— his separation from me was a matter of pride. Now he trusts our partnership enough to let me whisk him away to this island and spoil us a little.

I like him taking charge, I like him claiming me in every way he enjoys (I enjoy that myself.) But I started something earlier and I wouldn’t be a Salisbury-Pitch if I didn’t finish it too.

I leave one last kiss on his beautiful lips and roll us over.

Simon gives me a puzzled look. 

“I wasn’t done, love,” I whisper in his ear and reach for the lube. That makes him almost growl. He wants it. He wants me.

This seems somewhat risqué of a place — out in the open, but I’m hoping we won’t be disturbed. Our island companions haven’t walked in on us yet— I have a good feeling about this.

After applying a generous dab of lube to my fingers, I start over on opening him up. 

My cock is almost twitching from excitement. I want to be inside him, I want to make him feel good.

Simon’s rim feels silky under my fingers and when I move around, he moans from pleasure.

It goes faster now, of course, and it’s not long before the third finger is in and Simon is open and ready for me.

But first I come back to his lips and snog him a little, keeping my fingers still. 

Simon can’t seem to decide whether to be happy about the kiss or cross with me for not moving my fingers…  
He settles with a whine, “Baz-”

“Someone is awfully spoilt, Mr. Salisbury-Pitch,” I joke. That makes him chuckle.

“You’re lucky I love you, Mr. Salisbury-Pitch,” he says back to me. He isn’t really cross.

After leaving one last longing kiss on his lips, I return my attention to the lower half of his body. I put a rolled up beach towel under the small of his back and lube my cock up.

I line myself up against him, touch his thighs with one hand and steer my cock against his arse, right into him. I go as slowly and gently as I can, still caressing him with my other hand.

“Baz...I need more…” Simon is nothing if not impatient. 

“All in… due time, love…” I gasp through shattered breath. 

It doesn’t take long before I get us up to a bit of speed, thrusting my hips into him. 

“Yes…” he moans, and my passion builds because I live for that sound coming from him… only him. My cock feels amazing inside of Simon. He’s tight and wet and every thrust I make takes me up to heaven. 

“You...so…so...good…” I try to tell him while panting. And Simon is just that — good, body and soul. I love everything about him. How passionate he is over his music, how he taps into and expresses such deep emotion when he sings — things he can’t find the words for, otherwise. But I don’t just get his words… I get all of him. And so I get a view into his heart, beyond his words and music. Simon lets me see him — the real him.

Simon is trying to thrust back against me and I increase my speed so he can have all the pleasure he wants. 

He won’t last for long— I can see that— so I take a hold of his cock and start moving my hand along with my thrusts. Just as I do so he lets out a shriek, “Fucking hell… Baz…”

That gives me the extra adrenaline kick I need to go even faster, slamming my cock into him, making him moan and gasp more and louder.

“Oh yes…” His voice is the best melody in the world, even without singing. This right here, Simon gasping with me inside him, is my favourite ballad and the best love song he could gift me with.

“Ah…” I let out a groan as I pump my cock into him one more time before we both spill, me filling Simon with my come and him covering my belly with his. 

As soon as we both calm down a bit, I pull myself out and sink onto Simon. He looks angelic, bleached curls spread in every direction, blue eyes shining from pleasure, all flushed from making love. 

I get to make love with Simon — my husband. The thought still sounds unbelievable to me... I wanted this far too soon after we met. I never thought I would get it. That we would have each other...

I kiss his cheek and his sweat-covered temple.

“I love you, Simon.” I mean so much more with those words, but I might be a bit tired from the sun and from ecstatically pounding into my husband for a good half an hour. 

But I think he understands. I didn’t think that would ever happen either, that Simon would understand me. But he does. We both came a long way since this all started, since that first day we met.

Simon smiles at me, face glowing with happiness.

“You’re all mine and I’m all yours. I love you.”

Then he kisses me on the mouth in the most deep and passionate way.

That’s when we hear the tree branch snap.

We only have a few seconds to cover up with the blanket before we see Keith running towards us.

Before he’s close enough to see us clearly, he exclaims, “I heard screaming, what’s wrong?”

That’s when I remember Simon’s shriek of pleasure earlier. It apparently was misinterpreted. 

“Thank you for checking up on us, Keith. But we’re completely fine.” I’m trying to keep my voice neutral. In reality I have no idea if I want to laugh or to cry from humiliation.

When he sees us nude, covered by a blanket, he obviously understands what has occurred.

“Right, sorry. See you blokes for dinner later.” 

“See you soon, Keith,” I answer because Simon is awfully quiet, practically hiding under me.

Keith is trying hard not to look embarrassed (or at us) before walking away, muttering, “...newlyweds.”

As soon as Keith is gone, I chuckle against Simon.

“It was your idea, love, being this reckless...” I kiss him to sooth his nerves because Simon has gone completely red from embarrassment.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he admits and goes for another kiss.

“Well, nobody will stumble onto us by accident now, that’s for sure,” Simon adds as an afterthought…

“True. We could take another swim and see where it takes us this time,” I joke.

However, Simon gets that glint in his eyes and I’m fairly certain there’s more indecent behaviour waiting for us up the river...

“I married right,” I tell him and he kisses me with softness and force all at once like only he can.

“I think we better wash off in the water.”

*******

Simon: 

After spending a full day outdoors, Baz and I decide to stay in tonight, for our supper. Thanks to Jenny, we bring a stir fry and steaming bowl of rice back to our room before locking the door and pulling down the bamboo shades.

No unexpected visitors tonight.

There’s a little round table by the window. Baz lights some tea light candles in the middle of it, and suddenly we have our very own private honeymoon supper. 

Except Baz has his nose in a book. At first I’m tempted to make him put it away (what’s he reading, anyway?), but then I decide to let it slide. We have been together an awful lot these past few months, ever since the tour ended, actually we were together for a lot of the tour, too. And it’s not like he’s neglected me today, I think to myself, remembering our interlude in the lagoon.

Our two interludes in the lagoon.

Anyway, his reading gives me time to think.

The tour was amazing… not one bit as lonely as I thought it would be… because Baz was with me on the tour more often than not. He went back a few times to help Penny with the bookshop and make sure the place hadn’t burned to the ground, or something. But mostly he just traveled around with us. He could pull it off because Penny ran the shop like a pro (she ended up with a hefty pay raise and bonus, as a result). 

Agatha stayed away for awhile (Baz was right… she was more embarrassed, than anything), but she eventually came back to the bookshop and started talking to Baz again. They resumed their informal photography thing again, after talking it out.

“If I’d had any idea how serious you two were…”

“I know. We weren’t making that known, so it’s as much our fault as yours. Just a misunderstanding.”

He persuaded her to come to one of our gigs again, and finally we faced each other.

“Hey, Aggie.”

“Hey.”

“No hard feelings?”

“Of course not.”

“How about a hug?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t kiss me, though.”

Agatha looked at me like she had three options: slug me (hard), walk away in a huff, or just admit that that’s at least a little funny and have a laugh. 

Luckily she went for the laugh, and we’ve been friends ever since.

Her and Penny sat by each other at the wedding (Micah on Penny’s other side). They both laughed and cried during parts of our vows. 

The weirdest recent contact with Agatha came a week later, just before we left for our honeymoon.

Baz wanted me to give him that last photo shoot I’d promised. He hadn’t told me much about it, just that it would be in the woods and that I should wear the outfit with long grey boots again.

We went separately… he wanted to get there early and set up.

When I arrived, there were two surprises. First, Agatha was there. “Today I’m the photographer.”

Second, Baz was dressed up, too. I’d never seen him like this in person… just in art photos on his website. He was dressed head to toe in black… tight black trousers and black boots. He wore a long hooded cloak that was mostly open around the bare skin of his neck and chest. His hair was down, long and loose, and his pale grey eyes were rimmed with liner. He looked ferocious and sexy as hell. 

But then he grinned at me and pulled out a pair of horns. “For me?” I asked.

“No, for me. We’re doing this shoot together.”

“Aggie’s the photographer?”

“That’s right.”

I’m having a hard time not staring at him. We’re both wearing boots, but his heels must be higher because I have to raise my head to talk to him. And then those horns he’s fixing onto his head… why is that so sexy?

I clear my throat. “So… what are we doing here? Is there a concept for this shoot?”

“Yes. We’re enchanted husbands and we’re standing in a grove of trees. We’re holding hands. Right there.”

I follow him over to the grove of trees. “You stand here, like this.”

“With my back to the camera? You know I’m not trying to hide from anyone anymore, right?”

“I know, but I’ve had this concept for so long and I’ve always imagined it like this.”

“Wait a minute,” I say. “How long?”

“Since the beginning. Since I told you I could do this in five photo shoots.”

“Was it always in your concept that we were husbands?”

A hint of color is slowly spreading across his pale, perfect face. He’s not looking at me.

“‘Fess up, Baz.”

He sighs and looks over at Agatha, then at me (she’s busy fussing over the camera, like she might change the settings. I know for a fact Baz doesn’t let her change settings, so she’s trying to be discreet).

“Simon, I loved you right from the beginning. So embarrassingly early I couldn’t have said a word or I would have chased you off for sure.”

“How many weeks in was that, even? And you already knew you wanted to marry me?”

“What can I say? I was smitten.”

And with that I grabbed him by the collar of his spooky black cloak and pulled him down toward me.

“Come here, Pitch.”

“That’s Salisbury-Pitch, actually.”

I press my lips onto his lips hard and kiss him like I’m never going to let him go (I’m not).

After a minute Agatha clears her throat behind me.

“Should I be photographing?”

I let Baz go long enough for him to answer. “Not this part. Maybe you could go back to the car and get my wizard’s staff?”

I hear her sigh and walk toward the car. Baz, in his brilliance, has bought us another thirty seconds.

“I am going to nail you so hard tonight,” I promise him in a fierce whisper, staring hard into his eyes. With that I let him go, and he smooths his cloak out while still looking flustered. There is slightly more color on his cheeks then is strictly normal.

Then Agatha’s back, with his staff. She rolls her eyes when he leans it against a tree, out of view of the camera (because he didn’t really need it), before he taking my hands in his own for the shot.

Then I’m looking up into his eyes, and he’s looking down at me. And I could look at him forever, because he’s perfect and this is right where I belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to thank sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire for all your help with this work. Also I’d like to give imhellakitty a wave.

**Author's Note:**

> Coming soon: art and a playlist.


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